


Hellraiser: Beyond Elysium

by AnonGrimm



Category: Hellraiser (Comics), Hellraiser (Movies)
Genre: "Foul" Language, Angst, Blood and Gore, Dream Walking (Hellraiser style), Dubious Consent, Extreme Body Modification, Extreme Versions of Self-Harm, F/F, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Sex, Heterosexual Sex, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, I'm serious about the gore, Lesbian Sex, Monsters monsters everywhere, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Twisted Religious Imagery & Symbolism (Cenobite religion), Underage Sex (17), abuse of a corpse, extreme violence, non-con elements, some bdsm elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 56,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8249773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonGrimm/pseuds/AnonGrimm
Summary: Pinhead takes a madman of the Lemarchand bloodline who solves the box. The young man’s kidnapped sister, with a drawing of the Elysium Configuration and plans for its construction tattooed on her back, is left behind. The child thinks Pinhead has saved her. Pinhead takes her with him to Hell – to learn about the tattoo. His inner conflict grows and the part of him that remains human names the child Lenore, meaning ‘light’. In time, Pinhead returns her to the world, into the care of the one human who holds his fascination: Kirsty Cotton. Lenore has a mission but she is also unknowing bait to lure Kirsty back to Hell. Yet Kirsty has recently met a woman named Joanne Summerskill, who might be pivotal in helping her stop Pinhead’s plans.





	1. Torment

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not post this story anywhere without the author’s permission. Thanks. Feedback and constructive critiques are welcome, too. Just comment, email me at anongrimm@msn.com or tweet: @MET_Fic
> 
> This story involves some taboo subjects (see tags) -of course, the fandom being "Hellraiser" is possibly warning enough.
> 
> TIMELINE: This story takes place after the events of the sixth movie, "Hellraiser: Hellseeker". Characters will at times make references to earlier films in the series, as well as to events/situations/characters from the comics. Several characters from the comics appear in this fic. The name Pinhead calls himself in this story, Xipe Totec, is a name he has in the comics. It comes from an Aztec life-death-rebirth deity, also called the Flayed God.
> 
> Pinhead is the leader of the Cenobites, the Order of the Gash, who are among the most powerful servants in Hell. Solving the puzzle box, the Lament Configuration, calls the Cenobites forth to take a soul to Hell for eternal torment. Many people have mistakenly assumed the box would give them otherworldly pleasures, when all other diversions in the world have become meaningless. Elliott Spenser, the man who became Pinhead, once opened the box under that mistaken belief, following his service as a captain in the British Army in WWI.
> 
> The ‘Hell’ in this story is the Labyrinth, as envisioned by Clive Barker. This story clings to his mythology also, from book, films, and comics. This story deals rather heavily with some hellish concepts, literally and figuratively. In addition, the ‘monster’ is the hero of this tale. To quote the enigmatic and charming Mr. Doug Bradley, “As the movie went on, I felt less and less that Pinhead was the monster, that really the humans were the monsters. And for me, Pinhead felt more like a referee, a kind of demonic, impartial judge.” In that spirit, I present this tale.
> 
> This is a fast-moving story and many chapters are shorter than my usual fare, so sometimes I will post them two at a time. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)

“Hell is empty and all of the devils are here.”  
– William Shakespeare

**************************************************************************************

Renée tried to keep still as she’d been told but Jack was hurting her whether she moved or not. The thin needles entered the skin of her back over and over until all she felt was a blur of pain. Wetness dripped from her back – was it the black ink he’d shown her, for the picture he had to draw? The pain took over her senses then and she slipped, mercifully, out of consciousness.

Waking curled in a ball in the corner of the room on the dirty pile of blankets she’d been told was her bed, she tried to feel her back. It was sore and it hurt to move much at all. She sat up and held herself, shivering. It was as cold here as it had been outside and she was still wearing only her white cotton panties with the pink butterflies on them.

Her brother Jack was sitting on the floor across the room, watching her. He smelled like the room now, like the opposite corner he’d called the bathroom and like their mother when she drank from the paper sack. Renée stared back at him, hoping the drawing was finished and he wouldn’t need to hurt her anymore.

He had taken her out of the bedroom she was sharing with their brother Louis, she’d forgotten how many days ago, and brought her to this room, telling her she could help him and help Louis, too. Keep the drawing safe, he’d said, again and again. He had told her: someday, to save their family, give it to Louis.

Jack had let her cry and cry for her daddy but told her over and over that if she loved her family, she would help him save them. She never knew what she was saving them from. They were looking for her; her daddy would never stop trying to find her. She knew this because Jack said so and she believed it because she needed to. The nameless thing he feared, she couldn’t understand. The only thing that frightened her was him.

“They’ll find me, girl,” he said, and she flinched. “Your cursed father has them all after me. A damn street corner butcher who thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes, friends with every cop in the city – got them all out looking for his Goldilocks. Yeah, they’ll find me … but maybe I won’t be here when they do. You will, though. Tell them. You tell them that Louis has to finish it, he has to use the drawing. I’m not crazy, it’s real – but they won’t believe it, not without proof. They’ll just lock me up again like a mad dog. This…” He held up a shiny box. “This will give them proof.”

She watched as he turned the box, pushing and pulling at it. When the first piece moved, she decided it must be a puzzle. Jack shouted out, scaring her. Turning away from him, she lay down and hugged herself tightly into a ball on the moldy blankets. Crying hadn’t brought her daddy rushing to help her, so she prayed. She didn’t know any real prayers but she prayed for someone to come, to save her from Jack, and to take her home.

As she prayed, she heard a soft, pretty bit of music start to play. Jack was yelling now and she didn’t have the courage to look up. From somewhere, a deep bell rang out, like at church.

“Yes!” Jack shouted. “Come for me! You know my blood, you’ve tasted enough of it from my family, through centuries – come and taste mine, you bastards!”

Renée continued to pray, closing her eyes tight and holding her hands over her ears against the ghostly lights and sounds that abruptly assaulted the empty, dirty room. Then she smelled something that made her heart thump hopefully – the scent of blood and raw meat that clung to her daddy’s clothes all the time, from his job. With it, barely covering over it, came a gentle wafting scent of vanilla.


	2. The Tolling Bell

“Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love.”  
– Charles Maurice de Talleyrand

**************************************************************************************

Xipe Totec lifted his head at the sound of the bell. He smiled, assuming Kirsty had solved the puzzle box again at last. He rose from his chair as the Schism opened before him.

Shapes and shadows collected around him: servants and sycophants eager to follow their master, to share the blood he would spill in the human world. With a negligent gesture, he stopped them. This one was a soul he would not share; her blood had grown too precious to waste on the craven ones that served him now.

“Kirsty,” he whispered languidly in his ethereal baritone, savoring the twin syllables that made up the one name that sparked his long-dead hunger.

Looking into the opening void, the door between Earth and Hell, she whom he wanted was not there, though another treasure was.

He saw two souls – a boy, not quite a man, and a female child – and the scent of the boy’s blood made the lord of the Cenobites growl. He stepped through the door to deal with this old enemy, a thin ribbon of anger rippling through his eternal calm.

The human male was not startled to see him appear through the broken rent in a wall of his world but when the Cenobite saw the madness in the mortal’s eyes, he felt the slightest disappointment. A misguided fool of Lemarchand’s lineage was hardly worth the kindling of the old rivalry that had momentarily sparked in him.

Yet, the human’s soul was spiced with wickedness – not so common in one of that line – and might be amusing for a time. One sweeping glance at the child told him she was not only innocent but also a victim of the other’s cruelty. She was of no interest to the Order of the Gash.

Staring into the eyes of the boy, he saw the ancestors stretching through time beyond him – back to the beginning. Their blood had bathed and enriched his hands many times over.

“Jack Merchant. I remember your exquisite suffering when I took your father – the breaking of your mind begun that day has blossomed. Now, it is time for an end. You sought your damnation. It has come,” he intoned.

“Not mine,” the boy said in a rush, “yours. I know the secrets. I know how to destroy you all! I have ensured the salvation of my family, reversed the mistake of our ancestor!”

“Yet you opened the box,” the Cenobite responded, “calling me forth to claim you. How you will destroy me – when I drag your soul into Hell.”

The great bell stopped tolling the instant he summoned the chains. They erupted from the leaking walls, striking their barbs into the human’s flesh, suspending him in his screams. An eight-spoke half-circle of chains, like a spider’s web, formed the scaffold of his torment; the bright hooks pulled at his flesh, stretching it out from his bones. He writhed in agony until his screams quieted to whimpers. Though his father had fought to the last, this one was too quickly bereft of both his remaining sanity and any ability to struggle for life.

He watched the fevered eyes fill with an even brighter madness, bejeweled by the liquid rubies that welled and slipped down his face like tears.

“Where are your pronouncements, Son of Lemarchand? Is your purpose so thin that it tears as swiftly as your glistening skin? Or perhaps, you hope to challenge me in my own realm?” The Cenobite smiled. “This has been attempted before, by greater than you, Toymaker. Still I remain – and my triumphs are legends in Hell. You will learn this, in time. You have eternity. For now … the first lesson.”

The Cenobite slipped his fingertips inside the human’s bloody open shirt and into the chest cavity, regretful only that his enemy seemed incapable now of coherent understanding. Reaching up into the ribcage, he pulled the still-beating heart free. Brandishing it before the boy’s eyes, he watched the empty chaff sink slightly in the chains with no more than a broken moan. Cheated of any real satisfaction, he crushed the throbbing organ in his fist and dropped it to the pool of shining viscera on the floor.

Releasing the corpse, he allowed the body to drop to the wooden planks as the chains disappeared, the jumble of flesh smearing the blood it sprawled in. He turned to the door behind him, a void, open and waiting, full of the sounds of maddened black wings. Raising a bloodstained hand, he summoned servants forth. They came, avid and hungry, some walking, crouched or straight, some crawling on their hands for want of legs, and surrounded the pitiful being that had been Jack Merchant.

Xipe Totec turned away from them all as they pulled their prey through the door. They would take his soul to the Labyrinth, there to suffer torments for all time. In moments, all evidence of his blood had disappeared.

Some fragment of emotion akin to bitterness haunted the Cenobite’s thoughts. The box lay on the floor at his feet, just another configuration completing its created purpose. Kirsty still waited. After she had completed her bargaining yet again to keep her own soul, he had seen to it that the box was left in her keeping – certain that she would open it again, eventually. She was proving to be a most unpredictable being.

He bent to retrieve the box and turned back to the door. A tiny gasp caught his attention and he turned again to face the other soul, the child. She was hunched on a pile of rags, peering up at him.

“Are you an angel?” she whispered.

He smiled. “To some.”

She uncurled and turned to get her feet and hands under her, struggling to stand. The mosaic of dried blood and fanciful ink covering her thin back surprised him and the sum of the myriad images, in the center, drew his curiosity immediately. It was similar in design to the box in his left hand but the pattern was familiar beyond that. He had seen it before, as an old drawing on parchment. John Merchant, father to the boy he had just taken, had kept it safe – a souvenir from their ancestor Lemarchand.

There were differences, advances of design. This was obviously the handiwork of Jack Merchant but the evidence of what it must mean was shocking. Yet this was not the child of the madman – she carried none of the blood of Lemarchand.

“The symbols on your back – do you know what they represent?”

She blinked at him, her hand reaching to touch the small of her back. “Jack said it’s a drawing – to save our family. Is that why you came? You made him go away – can you help me?”

“What do you want?” the Cenobite asked the ritual question, a slight smile on his thin lips. Her utter fearlessness was impressive.

“I want to go home,” she answered, tears springing up in her wide blue eyes.

“So be it.”

Yet he would not take her to her home. He reached out his right hand to her, palm up. When she stumbled to him, weak and trusting, and placed her tiny hand in his, he swung her up into his arms. She touched the box curiously, so he placed it in her hands.

“What is it?”

“It is a means to summon my kind.”

The child held the box firmly in one hand but raised the other to timidly touch the rounded tips of the many golden pins that adorned the cut grid in his ghostly white face. Their eyes met and she seemed no more than curious, gazing into the wide black depths of his eyes – dark pools that did not mirror a soul.


	3. Lenore

“The mind is its own place and in itself can make a heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven.”  
– John Milton

**************************************************************************************

Time was an idea she barely recalled as she grew and her world had long ago shrunk between the walls of the private chambers she occupied. The chambers belonged to her benefactor, the lord of the Cenobites, but she saw him seldom in his vast and varied rooms.

Her constant teacher and companion, the man she learned to think of as her father, was a slight man with kind eyes as brilliantly blue as her own. His name was Elliott Spenser, and he had named her Lenore, meaning ‘light’.

Elliott had taught her to read and write, and told her many things about her birth world, though she couldn’t remember it anymore. He always hesitated to instruct her about her immediate surroundings, the winding eternal hive that made up the Labyrinth – and he refused to discuss the nature of her benefactor at all.

Angelique would visit her at times and Lenore would ask her questions. She knew the woman was a Cenobite but she always appeared in these chambers in her human guise, her dark beauty a mysterious fascination. There was some mystery about Angelique’s status, too. Her manner was regal, privileged – but she was as bound to the service of her lord as any of the other creatures that dogged his heels.

From Elliott, she knew that the Labyrinth was endless and that it existed in a different place than the world called Earth. Yet Angelique told her of Leviathan and a little of the work that she did for Xipe Totec, her lord and master. The collection and manipulation of souls baffled Lenore. She assumed that they were being punished but she had no concept of what really took place beyond her walls.

The fear Angelique showed whenever the lord of the Cenobites might approach confused Lenore too. Xipe Totec was a stern cold presence in her life but he had never offered her harm.

She knew his power protected her from the many creatures who served him and that his will provided for her needs. This was enough to win him her loyalty, though she wished sometimes that he might want her company more. Because of that, the few times he would send for her to attend him at his chair, she always listened intently to the things he told her, learning quickly anything he seemed to wish her to understand. At those times, he would answer many of her questions.

The best moments were when he would take her out into the Labyrinth itself, never entering the individual doors they passed. Once, he had escorted her out to see Leviathan. He made no demands upon her to decide how she felt about any of the things she learned or saw, seeming content to allow her to form her opinions about all of it in her own time. This freedom, long before she became his acolyte, won him her love.

She often tried to discuss these discoveries with Elliott when she returned and she found that this was the only time he would talk about the lord of the Cenobites at all, asking what he had shown her, told her, and helping her to understand the things that he could explain. She was surprised at how much he knew about it all, too, since he never seemed to leave their chambers.

Once, Xipe Totec had called her to his side and told her many things about human frailties and how she must not learn to adopt them.

“You are young, child – yet you may step on the wrong path if you are not watchful. Observe your own thoughts and emotions; learn which of them are worthy and which should be discarded. This will become easier as you grow older and as you learn much more about the ways of your kind.”

“How old am I?” She asked. She stood at the side of his chair in the room Angelique called the Chamber of the Schism.

Though she rarely dared to, as he rarely allowed it, she touched his pale fingers with her own. He didn’t withdraw his hand, the palm flat on the ornate heavy stone arm of the black chair. Encouraged, she slipped her fingers between his.

“Your human years remain the same. In this place, your soul could claim a decade, though you need not be concerned about time. Your blood will tell you when you are grown.”

“Will you let me help you then?”

“Perhaps, when I feel you are ready – but you would have to endure many changes to stand at my side and share my work with me. As you are, fragile flesh, you are not safe to walk alone through these halls.”

“I would do anything.”

He turned to look at her and she gazed into the abyss of his eyes fearlessly. “First, there are other matters, other lessons to learn, which can only be experienced through the possession of warm mortal flesh.”

Her fingers twined with his fully as he lifted his palm. His skin was cold and she had learned long ago that Cenobites, servants of Leviathan, were not mortal.

“What lessons?” she whispered, enthralled.

“Pleasure – and pain.”


	4. The Labyrinth

“For you know that I myself am a labyrinth, where one easily gets lost.”  
– Charles Perrault

**************************************************************************************

The lord of the Cenobites walked the halls of the Labyrinth alone, inspecting various chambers here and there, lost in contemplation. For eternity, he had worn this face, held these powers, and reveled in them – though at times the tedium of Hell grew wearisome.

Once, he had contended with John Merchant to complete a room in the building the man had created, desiring that it be transformed into a massive gate, far beyond what the Lament Configuration could open.

That Toymaker, like the first, had intended his design to be the undoing of the Cenobites. It was his meager mortal hope, a means to reclaim the sin of his ancestor making the original puzzle box and opening the way to Hell. Yet the eldritch machinery of the room had held within it the potential to eliminate the need for boxes or gates – it could simply crack the world open in a rent too massive to ever stop the flooding in of the hungry creatures that filled the Labyrinth’s cold gray halls.

The panels of that room, light magnifying sisters to the flesh of Leviathan, had been destroyed in their conflict, after he had sent a bladed chain to sever the Toymaker’s head in a rash moment of impatient impulse. The man’s son, Jack Merchant, was only a child, unable to repair the room. When he grew, he would not, knowing the purpose the Cenobite had for it. He had spent his short life advancing other aspects of the design, many of which he had obviously improved.

Yet no amount of terror or pain – even the pain of seeing his father die before his eyes, had persuaded the young man to complete his father’s design. Jack Merchant, scarred, comatose, and eventually mad, had spent most of his life reclaiming some measure of sanity, incapable of acting out his dreams of revenge.

Though the prospect was pleasing, the Cenobite did not dare to hope that he had ended the Lemarchand bloodline with the taking of Jack Merchant. They were religious about ensuring the line continued and so, even at such a tender age, the fool would have bred before ever confronting his legendary demons.

He might have known who the next Toymaker was, of course, had he returned his human ward to her birth family. He had been erratic then, still – maddened for a time by his momentary defeat at the hands of the transformed Dr. Channard. Further insult had been the need to use humans to free himself into the world again. In the indulgent carnage that followed, he had not been possessed of his ethereal calm and control for years.

Leviathan had been patient but no less demanding that his servant should fulfill his purpose. Though mercy and time had been granted to Suffragor Filius, the Favored Son, stained by the sin of remembrance, Leviathan had shown in the judgment on Channard that he would not tolerate disobedience for long.

The Cenobite surgeon had shown no care for the rules of the Labyrinth or the orders they carried out in its service, and so, though the Engineer had wrought well in making him, he had been cast down. Or had his fate been earned for his presumption – the willful striking down of so many of Leviathan’s ancient servants? He had failed in that endeavor, of course – the Engineer would restore the others in time.

What of the sin of remembrance? That other entity, a bound part of him, still held enough of an independent will to attempt to defy him. Yet he did nothing to subvert or control it. Would his god judge?

Xipe Totec paused, his head turning toward the tolling pulse of the voice of Leviathan, audible everywhere in the Labyrinth. It bathed him still with all the dark blessings that had been his since the dawn of time.

After a moment, he walked on. Once again the master of himself, cold and blessedly empty, finished with the boiling mad passions of his anger, he had returned to the simple service of this place.

Had it been a reward, in a way, for his reclaiming of his work or just coincidence? One of the first humans to again solve a puzzle box had been exquisite – Kirsty.

Such a delightful prospect she had brought him: the bargain of five souls to keep her own. Her unfaithful husband and his three paramours, and the man he had conspired with to kill Kirsty. Their designs had been bent on such a paltry thing – coin. He hadn’t wanted to take the deal, much preferring to taste her soul at last, but her rage and hate had spiced that soul deliciously, making him willing to wait – again. Waiting wasn’t difficult when eternity stretched out before his feet as surely as it had behind.

Then his step faltered and he stopped. What of the revelation Kirsty had given him? Though his blessings and power remained, so did the taint of his sin. Kirsty had been the agent of his fall, when she gave him a photo – evidence of himself as a mortal man. A wave of confusion threatened before he pushed it away. It was convenient, for now, to allow that shadow to exist without concerning himself about its nature. It afforded him a way to bind his ward to him beyond bonds of humanity and therefore served its purpose. Perhaps for that reason, Leviathan did not judge.

Returning at last to his own sprawling empty chambers, he went to the room where his ward slept. The sarcophagus of diabolic machinery that kept her alive and dreaming was in perfect order. When he saw that she was growing inside it, he smiled. The time for his greatest triumph was approaching, though there were many preparations yet to be made.

He turned away and went, weary and bored, to his chair. Picking up the puzzle box that sat in it, he settled down to wait, toying with the box thoughtfully.

“Angelique,” he called to one of the shapes in the dark corners of the room.

A female Cenobite approached, her bare scalp lovingly split over her skull and peeled down, anchored to her smooth white shoulders by exquisite chained hooks, as fine as jewelry. The former princess of Hell lowered her eyes as she stood before him.

“These toys you made from the plans of our enemy – what is their number?”

“Legion, my lord.”

“Yet they bring such meager harvest. The real work is still to be done.”

“What of the human? Can she truly be the key?”

He reached out to stroke one of the delicate chains that so enhanced her beauty. She stiffened at his touch and fell silent. Pleased with her fear, he removed his hand and held the box between his fingers. The brightly gleaming whorls and patterns flashed as he turned the structure about, every inch of it chanting the glory of Leviathan – flesh of exalted flesh.

“You will continue educating the child on your duties but I want you to begin employing that thing you value so well – temptation. Do not presume to touch her flesh. Use dreams, fragments of feeling – awaken her untapped hungers slowly. When the Engineer’s work is finished, she must be ready.”

“It will be done, my lord, but…”

“Yes?”

“The few tatters of her dreams I have seen that held the scent of desire – they call to you.”

The lord of the Cenobites smiled. “All in good time.”


	5. Kirsty

“Between us and Heaven or Hell there is only life, which is the frailest thing in the world.”  
– Blaise Pascal

**************************************************************************************

“That’s just it,” Kirsty responded, speaking up for the tape recorder, “I don’t think it is biblical. It’s spatial, maybe – dimensional – something…”

“People got the notion of Hell from somewhere.” Joey Summerskill adjusted her small recorder, moving it closer to Kirsty over the top of the coffee table.

“Myths or rumors of it could have inspired or solidified the biblical description of Hell, I don’t know – but the Labyrinth is a physical place. You don’t have to die to get there. If you’re still breathing after the doors are open, you can just walk right in. Innocence and evil, none of that matters, either.”

“So what does that tell us about an afterlife?”

“Nothing, maybe.”

“What if Heaven and Hell, the old reward and punishment idea, is something completely separate from whatever the Labyrinth is?”

“That used to be my mantra.” Kirsty shook her head. “I have to believe that my father is okay – wherever he is. I was told he was in his own Hell but I never believed it. The Labyrinth is something else entirely, though – it has to be. However, I’d rather not study it anymore than I have. The Cenobites can keep it.”

“Why do you think – he – keeps trying to enter our world?”

Kirsty smiled. “No idea. I keep forgetting to ask him.”

“I think about Doc a lot … and Terri.”

“You can’t hang on to the guilt. Trust me, I know. I beat myself up for years over Kyle, telling myself he’d be alive if I hadn’t run him right into Julia. He wouldn’t have stayed behind, though. Besides, he never listened close enough to my story if he expected Julia to stay skinless for long. He was on the lookout for a monster – but monstrosity isn’t always up front with you.”

“No. I can’t imagine the lies that demon told Terri.”

“Tell me about Elliott.” Kirsty smiled as she sat back and relaxed. “You said he helped you.”

“Oh – well, if you weren’t who you are, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. You might be the only person who wouldn’t think I was completely mad.”

“Who says you aren’t? Most people think I am.”

“Not me. I know you’re sane. I haven’t seen the Labyrinth but the Cenobites were enough.”

Kirsty poured more coffee for them both. “So tell me. I never got to speak to him once he remembered who he was; Channard interrupted us… Elliott saved Tiffany’s life … and mine.”

Joey began the tale that she must have been afraid to tell anyone. Kirsty could understand. She wished she hadn’t been so determined to tell the truth to others – especially to Dr. Channard. So many people would still be alive if she hadn’t… Turning away from the guilt again, she allowed Joey’s voice to distract her from the images of the horrors she’d seen. Just having someone else to talk to about these things helped – someone who wasn’t out to institutionalize her … again.

“Elliott chose to be bound to that demon again, to control it, send it back,” Joey said, finishing her tale. “I hope, wherever he is, that he might find some peace – though it doesn’t seem likely.”

“He told you he got into the weirder experiences after the war and that is what led him to the puzzle box. I wonder…” Kirsty mused. “It’s hard to imagine Elliott being anywhere near Frank’s league. Frank was evil, through and through, long before the Cenobites dragged him off. My one sight of Elliott – I don’t know… He seemed so … good.”

“As ghosts go, I’d have to agree.”

“You’re probably right about peace being scarce for him.” Kirsty sighed. “If he’s in the Labyrinth, bound to – him – well, I know I wouldn’t list it as a place to buy a house. Boston is a lot better.”

Joey smiled nervously and reached out to turn off the tape recorder.

Kirsty stood. “I did promise you a snack, didn’t I?” She went to the kitchen. When she returned with a plate of brownies, Joey was staring at her coffee cup. “Where are you staying?”

Joey looked up and shrugged. “I haven’t bothered to get a hotel yet. I got off of I-95 and drove straight to your doorstep.”

“Why don’t you stay here? I have extra bedrooms; pick one when you get tired. Until then, we can just talk the night away – at least until we’re convinced that we’re both sane.”

“I’d like that.” Joey picked up a brownie. “So you moved here after the accident?”

“Yes. We – my father and I – lived in Brooklyn before he married Julia and got the wild notion of moving into the family homestead. Between my father and what happened later with Trevor, I decided I didn’t want to be a New Yorker anymore. Boston was my way of starting fresh … or hiding – take your pick.”

“Why do you think Trevor did it? If you don’t mind talking about it?”

“I don’t know why. I’m told people sometimes turn to suicide without any prior clues that there’s even a problem. I’ve had my guilt over that, too. How could I not know he was so troubled? I guess I’d like to know why he chose to do it in the car going over a bridge, too. Maybe he wanted to take me with him. I’ll never know.”

“I’m sorry,” Joey whispered.

“It’s okay. That was a while ago. My therapist has me moving on, apparently.”

“Does this therapist know your history?”

“No. That’s why I’m working at a nice boring realtor job and living quietly alone in my house, instead of sleeping with tranquilizers in a straitjacket.”

“An improvement.”

“So, what about you? Married?”

“No, never – career woman, all the way.”

“Not even a boyfriend?” Kirsty smiled when Joey shook her head. “Girlfriend?”

“What?” Joey blushed. “No. Nothing like that.”

“Me either. I guess I may as well tell you – after Trevor I met Tiffany again, before I left New York. We ended up together, for about a year. It was nice – having someone who knew all of the secrets and didn’t judge me.”

“Oh.”

“It didn’t work out, obviously. We’re still friends, but she met someone – a man. She was just sort of drifting anyway; after all we’d been through she didn’t know who she was, let alone what she wanted. So I wished them well and moved here. Been a hermit ever since.” Kirsty picked up a brownie and paused. “I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

“No! Not at all.”

“Well, I promise to behave, if you aren’t into that.” She smiled again, taking a bite of the pastry.

“I have something I wanted to show you – but it’s still in my car.” Joey rose. “It’s a box.” When Kirsty choked, she amended quickly, “Not a puzzle box. Sorry. It’s just a box full of documents and stuff that Terri helped me get out of an art gallery in New York City. It came from the Channard Institute … but some of it is hundreds of years old.”

“The mystery deepens, huh? Need help dragging it in?”

“No, it’s not heavy.” She paused and looked back at her. “My suitcases are.”

“Let’s get to the grunt work, then.”


	6. Daughter of Hell

“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”  
– Seneca

**************************************************************************************

Lenore snuggled up to Elliott on her huge bed, feeling his arm encircle her back. She asked him to tell her about the Great War again, not because she needed the tale repeated but just to hear his voice thrum in his throat in time with his heartbeat. It was good to know that someone else possessed a beating heart in this place and whenever she felt lonely, she would seek him out this way.

“Why don’t you tell me about your talks with Angelique instead?”

“There’s not much to tell. I learned about the Vasa Iniquitatis, which you taught me means ‘Vessel of Iniquity’ in Latin. Angelique calls them the holiest sect of the Order of the Gash but she says their members call my lord by that name, too, sometimes. She’s a good teacher,” Lenore mused, and then she frowned. “Yesterday, she asked me things I didn’t understand.”

“What did she ask?”

“It was all about love. I guess… She asked if I dreamed things – about pleasure. Then she asked about what I might want.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I want to help – with their work.”

Elliott sighed and held her closer. “You could want more than that if you knew other experiences. You must promise me, Lenore – if you are allowed to return someday to your birth world and mine – that you will try to see things with your own eyes and learn about other paths you might take. This place will always be here … but you could have life, and love life, as I … once did.”

“Before the war?”

“Before…”

“I promise to learn all I can but I don’t want to leave you – or them.” She looked up at him as he closed his eyes. “Please tell me about the war.”

She daydreamed while he spoke of battles and ideals but soon lost the thread of his words as she slipped into dreams.

~ ~ ~

Elliott had told her that time moved differently in the Labyrinth. When she aged and he did not, she knew it was true. Yet she was learning so much about the struggle against Chaos and how it strove against the Order of Leviathan, that she did not notice time as it changed her.

Her dreams were filled with fragmented visions and splinters of emotion she barely understood. Angelique, her teacher in the concepts of emotion, tried to help her understand but it was all removed from real experience.

Sometimes it seemed that Chaos reached out to claim her as her body grew tall and her shape changed. Was it because she had been born in that world? She had been taught to scan her thoughts and weed out those unworthy of perfect order. Even so, and all too often, the weapons of Chaos would overcome her.

This day, waking from a dream of desire, she sat up and smoothed her hair from her face. She glanced at her nude body and felt heat rise in her cheeks. Her lord had been present in her dream. Her weakness had drawn his image from her memory, dragging Leviathan’s chosen, the Dark Pontiff of Pain, into her chaotic sin. It was an insult to the Order he served, that which she aspired to serve. Holding herself, she tried to bring her thoughts under control again.

The chamber was as silent as before but she knew abruptly that she was not alone. Looking up, she saw Xipe Totec standing at the foot of the bed. Sure her distress had called to him and that her sin was known, Lenore rose and knelt before him on the cold stone, her head bowed. She opened her mouth to speak her confession but his cold and commanding voice stopped her.

“Child, is it truly your wish to join me in my work?”

Eyes wide, she nodded but kept her gaze on the stone between his boots, her hands cupping her knees. “Though I am not worthy, my lord … that is my wish.”

“I will judge if you are worthy. This is my will for you – I will send you into Chaos and you will learn all you can until I call you home to me. You will take my lessons with you and study our enemy.” He was silent a moment and she felt his eyes on her. “You may speak.”

“It is not my wish to leave your side, Vasa Iniquitatis, but I will obey you in this, as in everything.”

“Look at me.”

Lenore raised her head and met his dark gaze. He reached out his hand and placed his fingers under her chin.

“You fear the carnality of the darts of the enemy – yet these same barbs are the very weapons Leviathan would have us bring against them. Be comforted.”

“Yes, lord, but I – am weak.”

“Because you feel desire? This is what I send you to learn. How can you fight the enemy if you cannot understand the very things we wield to defeat them? I have told you that you must learn of pleasure and pain. You have grown in both mind and body and now the time has come.”

“Can you not … teach me these things?” she whispered. He removed his touch, the lines of his mouth hardening in displeasure. Ashamed, she lowered her head.

“You are beginning this journey. My steps are too far along the path before you for such simple instruction. Were I to teach you my pleasures, you would not survive them. Is it your wish that I renounce the knowledge I hold in turn to dally as humans do, in a brief and fading desire?”

“No! Forgive me, Vasa Iniquitatis. As you see, I am weak. I only wish…”

“Tell me, child.”

Lenore took a deep breath. “I wish for my first understanding of these things to come from you. That I might know what you wish me to feel before I learn any other truth. Please, lord … I would never seek to dishonor you with any touch of Chaos.”

“Stand.”

Swallowing her fear, she stood. She was nearing his height now. Her naked body trembled slightly as she waited for him to speak.

His hands rose, his palms, fingers, touching her arms, sliding up her flesh to rest on either side of her neck. He lowered his head until the golden pins touched her forehead, tangling in her hair.

For a moment, she was silent, shocked at his gift of touch. Then a heat entered her body, coursing through her blood, making her breath catch. It came from his flesh, from his hands, burning her nerves into aching life – and beneath its onslaught, her body changed again.

The skin of her breasts tightened, the nipples becoming so hard that she felt tiny stabbing sensations in the flesh there. The feeling from her dreams, the ache deep inside, thrummed to life and seemed to pulse with her quickening heartbeat. The pink flesh between her pale legs grew moist as her breath drew in with quiet gasps.

Without thinking, she reached out to touch his chest. Her fingers found the silver hooks that flayed him open there, pinning the flesh down in twin strips over the black leather worked with runes and whorls that were parts of Leviathan’s pattern.

“Short is the pain, long is the ornament,” she breathed, reciting a tenet of the Order of the Gash.

Beyond a clasp a hands when she had been a child, Lenore had never dared to touch his body before, let alone the markings Leviathan gave him. In that moment, seemingly with his blessing, her fingers explored his exquisite wounds. The touch of his blood on her fingertips coursed through her like the lightning of Leviathan.

His invasion of her nerve endings intensified and she cried out. Wetness dripped down her inner thigh as the mounting feeling abruptly broke, leaving her stunned and trembling. For a moment, she feared she might buckle and fall.

When his hands left her neck, his palm rested on her head as he raised his own away from her forehead. Tendrils of long blonde hair pulled loose from the pins and floated down to cover her face. Pressure on her head directed her – he was pushing her down. She almost fell to her knees before him, only regretting that she couldn’t touch him now. His hand pressed her down further, inducing her to lie on her back on the stones.

Lenore felt dazed, hardly noticing the cold. Her eyes drifted shut as she reveled in the heat snapping through her body, weakening her into a delirium that she welcomed.

“Is this pleasure?” she whispered.

“As mortals know it – yet in a form few could stand to endure.”

His fingers closed on her ankle, lifted it with the slightest caress, and set it down again, leaving her legs open wide. A soft rustling sound made her eyes flutter open and she stared as he lowered himself to kneel between her knees. The leather of his garment stretched across his thighs, the markings on it mesmerizing her.

“The first blood of the Daughter of Hell is not for mortal eyes. In this, I instruct you in pain, the root and source of true pleasure.” His hand reached for one of many silver and serrated tools hanging from the cord that wove in and out of his abdomen: a thin straight blade. “Will you have this teaching?”

“Please … yes.”

The thing he called pleasure still had her in its thrall. She brought her fingertips in front of her face and licked the crimson traces of his blood from them. The taste was shocking – burning into her consciousness like the heat of pleasure. It gave with its taste an afterglow of knowledge – some ethereal interpretation of wisdom held in the blood. Lost in the wonder of it, she slowly became aware of his fingers.

They touched her wet flesh for only a moment before opening it wide for the blade to pass inside her. The cold metal made her skin flush. Then a sharp, bright heat struck deep inside. She gasped out and her body went rigid for a moment.

 _Pain. This is pain. It burns hotter than pleasure, quicker and quickly over, but more intense._ Nerves raw, breath ragged, she looked up into Xipe Totec’s face.

He held the blade that had pierced her up to his lips. Its silver was covered in a thin sheen of red. She watched as he opened his mouth, extended his tongue, and sliced it open in a shallow cut. Then he licked her blood from the blade as it mingled with his own.

The electricity of the pleasure in her body mingled with the sharp edge of pain, blending together until she couldn’t tell one from another. She watched him rise before her in a haze, heard the chime of metal as the blade was returned to the black rope that passed through both leather and flesh. Was he holding out his hand to her?

“Rise, child. Come to me.”

Lenore struggled to her feet, grasping his hand and grateful for his strength. Her fingers struck one of his hooks as she steadied herself against him. She found herself stroking it before she realized it and stopped.

He escorted her to her warm bed and laid her down on it, her feet barely touching the floor, her legs still opened to him. Pleasure and pain continued to coil there but pain was the first to fade. She could have wept for its loss.

Fearing he would leave her, she clung to his leather sleeve. His fingers moved to stroke between her legs again and when he held them up, her red blood dripped from them. _Will it stain the leather that covers his thumb and little finger? A part of me joined with him forever…_

“If you serve me, you will stand at my side through eternity.”

“But you say I must leave you,” she whispered. “I can think of no worse punishment.”

“Many trials await if you choose this path. You have tasted my blood. I will always be with you, from that moment.”

“More…”

“No. In this mortal form, it could harm your mind.”

“Then take mine. I give you all – flesh, blood, soul…”

“Flesh and soul you must keep, for now.”

He bent to her body, his fingers spreading open the pale and crimson folds. When she felt the fingers smear into the blood, inserting inside her flesh, his power entered her again and this time, flowing through his touch, the gift was pure pain.

Lenore writhed with it, welcoming the blessing of it, her knees rising and widening to give him all of herself that he might want. Her mind filled with ancient and sacred prayers to Leviathan, supplications of sacrifice: praying that the Suffragor Filius of the Pit would come to want everything she possessed.

Overwhelmed by the exchange, she sank into a trancelike state, unsure if she were awake or asleep.

His voice was soft, low and distant. “Sleep. When the gate opens, I will summon you. Until then, think on these initiations. Seek to understand their mystery – their truth.”

He left her there alone. Lenore turned onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillows. She had been allowed to touch him. The hints of knowledge given by tasting his blood whirled in her mind, tilting her senses.

_Pleasure … and pain._

His gifts had filled her soul – but she had never felt as alive as when the pain itself had drawn the blood from her body.

 _Short is the pain… What is the secret his blood whispered?_ The answer seemed almost on the edge of thought but before she could reach out to grasp it, sleep drew her down to oblivion.


	7. Bloodline

“The process of delving into the black abyss is to me the keenest form of fascination.”  
– H. P. Lovecraft

**************************************************************************************

“Here’s Lemarchand again. Wow. You weren’t kidding about this stuff being old. Dr. Channard must have spent his entire life studying this.”

“Just to end up as a Cenobite.” Joey frowned. “Why would you set out to become that?”

Kirsty glanced over the journal entry quickly before looking up at her houseguest. “Power?”

“Enter politics then; why leap right into selling your soul?”

Kirsty laughed. “I don’t see the distinction … but as Hell beasts go, at least the Cenobites aren’t after your money.” She dropped the leather-bound journal in her lap and stretched. “I don’t think he intended to become a Cenobite. That was probably Julia’s plan. I bet the good doctor wanted to discover the secrets of death and afterlife. If he wanted anything else, it was likely immortality. Bringing Julia back could have been just a grand experiment to prove it was all possible. Doctors are hot to beat death – more than reporters are to cover it.”

Joey smiled as she fished in the box at her side and picked up an old 8x10 black and white photo. It had been folded over twice and the upper left corner torn away. She held it open in her left hand as her index finger traced the lines of the proud figure staring back at her.

He wore the uniform of a British World War I captain. It was how he had appeared to her in her dreams. She could still remember the soft-spoken intelligent voice. The tears that abruptly filled her eyes were a surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Kirsty asked. “Is that the photo of Elliott?”

Wordlessly, Joey leaned forward to hold it out to her. The handsome face, the kind and confident eyes, always affected her deeply.

Kirsty took it from her and smiled. “His eyes were such a brilliant blue. I’ve never forgotten that.”

“He always makes me think of my father.”

“Vietnam, right?” When Joey nodded, Kirsty sighed. “No wonder we get along, we both have father hang-ups – plus the Sisterhood of Cenobite Survivors.” She studied the photo closely. “It almost feels like he’s looking back at me. You know, call me crazy – most people do – but when he smiled at me, it felt like there was an entire conversation taking place. Sometimes I dream about it but I never remember anything. How someone like him could end up as – that – is still firmly beyond me.”

“Dreams, visions – whatever … was how he communicated with me. Maybe they aren’t just dreams you’re having.”

“I’d love to say I’m flattered but considering who his spiritual roommate is, I think I’m disturbed by that idea.” Kirsty laid the photo on the coffee table between them. Then she laughed. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this, especially since I’ve given up men these days. After he saved us from Channard, I sort of fell hard for Captain Spenser.”

“Here’s his alter-ego,” Joey said, handing her a trio of color photos. “The first two were with the rest of this stuff. The Pyramid Gallery must have snapped them before they sold the statue. The other is from a security camera in the Boiler Room.”

“This isn’t a statue. It’s a pillar. I saw a lot of them, in my father’s house when the Cenobites took Frank and in Channard’s hospital, too. These things show up when they do and they use them to hurt people, with the … hooked chains.”

“How did he get stuck in it and are those the others? All of them?”

“I don’t know but that’s them, yes – Julia, too. That guy, the bearded one you can barely see, he’s different but he works for them or something. He took the box when I tried to burn it – just walked into the fire to get it. That was right before he turned into Puff the Magic Demon and flew away.”

Kirsty studied the photo from the club. The room around the figure was blurred but the Cenobite showed up clearly. He was standing on an upstairs balcony, facing out and looking down at the people below. The face was all too familiar but the expression was different.

“He looks – angry. I didn’t know he could.”

“That was taken just before he decimated hundreds of people. No one escaped. J.P. and Terri came out as Cenobites, along with two employees of the club … and my friend Doc.”

“Anytime I’ve seen him, he was calm – weirdly calm, like a spooky thing, but in control. Here, he looks unhinged.” She frowned. “I guess we’ll never know the monster’s side of the story.”

“Elliott was about to fight Channard when you and Tiffany ran, and then the Cenobite shows up in this pillar thing, masquerading as a piece of morbid art – until someone let him out.” Joey shook her head. “We’re missing a lot of puzzle pieces.”

“It must have been something Channard did, to them all – but he’s dead. I don’t know why … but it seemed like the Labyrinth itself took him out.”

The two women stared at each other. Sitting on the carpet with a coffee table and a banker box between them, they could hear the clock on the wall ticking. Neither had looked at it in hours but light had begun to glow through the heavy curtains behind the couch.

“Why are we doing this?” Kirsty asked.

“Just to try and understand what happened to us, how it started … and why?”

“I can respect your hope for a shiny Pulitzer and happy to help if I remain anonymous – but I’ve got a vested interest in forgetting all of this, not finding out more about it.”

“What about finding a way to beat them? It’s more than a story for me now. I still have nightmares about all that happened to me, to my friends. I want to know that it won’t ever happen again. Maybe I can’t know that unless I find a way to stop the Cenobites for good.”

“Unless you’re planning to learn telekinesis or how to twirl a hook on a chain – slay dragons – you’re out of your league.”

“Don’t you want to be certain you’re safe?”

“I’m staying safe by keeping three steps ahead of that bastard, same as most males of any species – and avoiding shiny puzzle boxes.”

“Aren’t you at least curious how it began?”

“I know how.” Kirsty stood, stretched, and offered her hand to Joey.

She took it and rose to her feet. “Did you read –”

“Not in the journal. I’m not sure I care how it started originally. For my family, it began when an evil hedonist reached too far into the dark unknown, looking for some way to fight a soul-eroding boredom with decadence. He brought death and madness into my life; the last thing I want to do is follow in his footsteps. I’ve already come too close to that and I never was a white hat out to battle evil. If you go after the Cenobites, you’ll die. Living with your nightmares is a better choice, believe me.” Kirsty turned away and headed for the master bedroom.

Joey stayed rooted where she was, staring at the mysteries in the box at her feet. “Would you rather I just left?”

Kirsty glanced over her shoulder and smiled at her. “I’d like you to stay. I’m just tired and this stuff makes me a little edgy.” As she disappeared into her room, she added, “Whenever we decide to wake up, I’ll help you Nancy Drew some more if you want. For me, it’s nice to have the company of someone who understands it all.”

“But?” Joey asked, prompting her.

“When you start tilting at Hell’s windmills, you’re on your own.”

Joey looked down at the coffee table where Captain Spenser waited, a silent witness to the exchange.

“You wanted to fight him. You helped me to do it and you saved a lot of lives by giving up your own. I don’t want to die but I don’t want others to fall prey to them either.” Fear and obsession warred inside her. She held herself tightly and shivered. Turning to go down the hall to the bedroom she had chosen earlier, she whispered, “Goodnight, Elliott.”

~ ~ ~

“Coffee, eggs, and a French guy named Lemarchand making a toy that calls up demons. I miss the days when I had a boring life,” Kirsty said. “You could have stuck to making model birds that sang but no. Thanks a bunch, Phil.”

Joey smiled. “So this Phillip Lemarchand was an eighteenth century French toy maker, and he made the first puzzle box, commissioned by a nobleman, Duc de L'Isle. In this diary account that Channard collected, Phillip witnessed the duke performing some sort of summoning with the box, a woman from Hell, he says – but the account just doesn’t sound like a Cenobite.”

“No,” Kirsty agreed, “but he obviously decided the box was a mistake, because the diary mentioned some effort to make something to stop his toy from working, right off the bat.” She flipped quickly through more pages of Channard’s journal. “I don’t think the doctor spent much time on Lemarchand’s efforts to redeem his mistake. The rest of this is all about the boxes, accounts of them and the people who acquired them, and then his own efforts to find the ones in his collection.”

“Well, there are plenty of other things in the files to go through. What about the puzzle boxes Channard gave to the patients? They weren’t even on the inventory of possessions the gallery purchased.”

“Puzzle boxes have a nasty habit of going missing and turning up elsewhere. Someone probably sold them on the sly. Channard certainly wouldn’t inspire loyalty or make anyone respect his things. His Cenobite alter-ego was also a horrible kisser, to add insult to injury.”

Laughing, but with a twist of unease in her belly, Joey smiled at the other woman’s wink.

“When you wear your evil step-mother’s skin to fool her lover because saving your friend’s skin – still attached to her – is your goal, the nightmares get pretty dark. Humor keeps me from dooling in a corner.”

Having heard the whole story now, she couldn’t blame her. “I understand.”

Joey finished breakfast first and returned to the living room, leaving Kirsty in the kitchen reading Channard’s journal. It was after four o’clock in the afternoon but they had been up less than an hour.

Sitting on the floor beside the box of documents again, she continued going through it, though she wasn’t sure what she was hoping to find. Then she picked out a drawing, a rough and unfinished sketch.

Kirsty came in with the journal and her coffee and sat on the couch. “This entry is about Elliott. It mentions a letter Channard found and spent a pretty penny on at an estate auction in London. I hope it’s in there.” She put the journal down. “What’s that?”

“Didn’t Channard mention something called the Elysium Configuration? That thing he was so upset over, because the owner wouldn’t sell it?”

Kirsty picked up the journal and hunted through it. “Yes … here. A project begun by our froggy buddy Lemarchand. It’s either another box to open Hell or the first draft of how to close it. Hard to tell from what it says. Why?”

“I think I found the plans for it – like a fast sketch. A masterpiece of design, though, just as art and therefore, worth a lot. Priceless, if it could stop the Cenobites. Why wouldn’t the gallery have sold it quickly?”

“There was a puzzle box stuck in the pillar, right?”

“Yes.”

“Those damn boxes always move fast. People are in a hurry to get to Hell; they’re rarely in a hurry to stop it.”

Joey smiled again at the breezy cynicism. Kirsty was surprisingly easy to like and not at all the ‘bitter crazy harridan’ her boss had implied she was when he agreed to let her chase this story. “What about the legend Channard mentioned, about the bloodline, the Merchant family? Someone of that family might know a lot about this drawing.”

“There’s a skyscraper in New York that the builder John Merchant put up, in 1996. I remember seeing it on the news and almost choking on my dinner when they showed pictures of it. It’s loaded with images of the Lament Configuration. He was murdered before the cement got cold but maybe his widow is still alive?”

Staring at the intricate drawing, Joey frowned. “She was in the news about a year ago. I got that much digging done before I landed on your doorstep. It was something about a daughter being kidnapped, allegedly by her teen son, Jack.”

“He stole his own sister? That means he’s not the only Merchant left, right?”

“No, he isn’t – he had a son at age fourteen, a year before the kidnapping. John Merchant’s widow, Bobbi, remarried – a man named Tom Ramsay. They never found Jack or their daughter. I can call my boss and get contact information for Bobbi. Maybe she still has the original plans.” She sighed, laying the drawing beside the photo of Elliott. “We shouldn’t hold our breath, though; she’s notoriously uncooperative with the press.”

“I wouldn’t dig too deep. Do you know how John Merchant was murdered? I’ve never forgotten that either. He was decapitated by some sort of thin metal blade, allegedly a weapon ‘thrown with considerable force’, which they never found. Care to take a guess who killed him?”


	8. Dichotomy

“I am the brightest light beaming from the darkest depths. A dichotomy, I am … Illumination.”  
– Jaeda DeWalt

**************************************************************************************

They could have been brothers, in some ways. In others, no two beings were ever less alike. Lenore didn’t know if her new connection to Xipe Totec through his blood had given her this revelation or if it was something she had always suspected. What was the meaning of the puzzle?

Elliott had fallen silent after she had told him of the Cenobite’s gifts and his intention to send her into Chaos. In his stillness, the resemblance to her lord was haunting.

“Remember your promise,” he finally whispered. “See how humans live, how they love. Experience the simplicity of it. You don’t know real love; in this place, you can’t know it.”

“I love.” She reached out to touch his hand and held it in hers. “I love you and I love him.”

“The love of a dutiful daughter?” His blue eyes searched hers.

Lenore blushed. “I’m your daughter. I am his acolyte. I want to be worthy of him. I will be.”

“If you follow him blindly, you will never learn what I would teach you.”

“Father, your purpose and his are alike. I am to learn about desire, pleasure and pain … and love.”

“His ‘gifts’ may have already destroyed your ability to judge human pleasure fairly. What of your origins? I’ve told you about your birth world. You have a family there. Will you seek them out?”

“Why should I? My family is here.”

He touched her face with his fingertips, a sad smile on his lips. “Try to find a family named Merchant. Show them the tattoo on your back. If you do nothing else I ask of you, do that one thing. Swear it.”

“Father, I will.” She reached for him and sighed when he held her close. The comforting sound of his heartbeat was loud against her ear.

~ ~ ~

One hundred and thirty golden pins adorned the head of the Favored Son of Leviathan. Ten silver hooks pierced his flesh. He was called Xipe Totec, a name that meant ‘our god, the flayed one’, in the timeless language of the Labyrinth, taught to an ancient race in the realm of Chaos.

Lenore stood at his side and studied his cold grace, his ethereal soulless beauty. What ornamentation might she receive some day? What mark would Leviathan give her … and would it please her lord, make her beautiful in his sight? Elliott had told her she was lovely – a stunning beauty by the standards of men. Yet what did men matter to her? She loved the immortal Chosen One of her god.

In these last days she had perceived a rivalry between her father and this one she wanted to serve, heart and soul. The discord confused her but her path and her choices were clear.

Her fingers stroked the thin white cotton of her shift. This last ritual would prepare her to enter Chaos. She recited the tenets of the Order of the Gash under her breath to calm her fear.

“The Engineer is here,” Xipe Totec said, calling her attention back to the arched doorway.

A creature stranger and more terrible than any she had seen in Hell hung suspended from the arch. Its huge amber eyes with alien pupil slits watched her with an unsettling intelligence.

When it dropped, she saw that it resembled a scorpion, though it was larger than a man. Its bare flesh and many clawed hands glistened with a viscous fluid. The sounds it made were insectile screeches and chitterings – yet she heard its voice in her mind.

_The acolyte is ready._

Xipe Totec led her to the stone sarcophagus that dominated the room. She had never seen it before, though they stood in his chambers in a room she knew. He opened it with his unseen power and she saw an apparatus like veins weaving in and out of it, as a chill was released into the room.

He helped her into it and she lay quietly, watching his expressionless face as the heavy lid closed over her. The cold pierced her body like a blade … but there was no pain.

~ ~ ~

When she woke, the world had changed. A stone chamber, a creature born of nightmare, and a being that held the form of a man – these things were strange and familiar at once.

Lenore reached instinctively to take the pale hand of the man. Stepping down to the floor, she shivered.

“My child,” he whispered, the cold baritone voice sparking memories. “This disorientation will pass but the work of the Engineer is – eternally sublime.”

 _Chaos will take her memory,_ the Engineer’s mind spoke to them both. _Seek a configuration – flesh of the god Leviathan – and know yourself again._

Her hand rose to touch the whorls and runes in the black leather the man wore. _No, not man,_ she thought, awed and humbled. _Not human._

The regal angelic being took her hand in his cold fingers and placed the tips of her fingers in the red wounds that flayed his chest. She felt the wet gore with wonder, stroking the perfect symmetry of the six silver hooks that held down the flesh.

“Short is the pain,” he said, bowing his head to touch hers with the shining golden pins that crowned him.

“Long is the ornament,” she breathed the ritual words, though she had no memory of learning them. “My lord … Suffragor Filius…” She fell against him and he swung her up easily in his arms. As he carried her out, she watched the glittering intelligent eyes in the face of the monster over his shoulder. It stared back at her with ancient knowledge. “The Engineer,” she whispered, and then she turned her face to her lord’s chest.

The Favored Son took her to a bedchamber and laid her down to sleep. She felt him watching over her as she tasted his blood again from her fingers. The visions it gave were unclear but she sought the connection it offered, binding her soul to his will with a fierce unnamed need.

~ ~ ~

Lenore felt strange when she woke again, almost heavy. The room was familiar, though it seemed to be part of a dream she hadn’t shaken.

At the foot of the bed, the Cenobite stood. His face was lit with a dark glorious light and the knowledge drifted slowly into her mind – it was the mark of one who had been blessed to stand in Leviathan’s presence. Yet his face haunted her, beyond the blessings that marked him.

 _The set of the eyes, the cleft of the chin…_ “Father?”

“That one cannot speak to you now. You no longer dream.”

A wash of regret and need passed through her, numbing her. “I wanted to say good-bye.”

He turned away, his measured steps echoing off of the stones. “It is time. The Guardian has found a supplicant that serves our purpose.”

Lenore hurried to follow him but her movements were sluggish and she almost fell. Her body felt awkward and numb. He faced her when she reached his side. Wordlessly, he offered her his arm and together they left his private chambers and entered the Labyrinth.

So many things had changed. Her senses were dim, her perceptions mixed. She traced the pattern on his leather sleeve with her fingertips to calm herself but the comfort it had always given was muted.

A deep tolling thrum settled in her ears and throat like pressure. Its longer and shorter notes overlapped and became a chant without words.

“What is it?” She clung to his arm, feeling both wonder and fear.

“The voice of Leviathan, whom I serve – and into whose service you go.”

“What is wrong with me, my lord? I’ve changed … it’s all different. Why?” She felt tears wet her eyes as he stopped and faced her.

Two fingers, one a touch of flesh, one of leather, brushed the tears away. “Such beautiful suffering – desperate to understand, unable to perceive. You are human, child. The clarity and grace of dreams is ended.”

Lenore reached up and touched his face. The pallid flesh was chilled, glowing with the ethereal light of his god – her god. His black eyes absorbed all other light, drawing it into the emptiness inside his ancient and eternal form.

“My body is different, too. Is this the change you spoke of, before I could share in your work?”

The rounded tips of the pins touched her fingers as he gave her a slight smile. He only stood a few inches taller than she did now. “It is not. The Engineer has transformed your body to match your dreaming soul. You remain all too human.”

“I want to be like you.”

“Patience. There are things that must come before, trials and lessons to prepare you.”

Her fingers slipped to his chest as she bowed her head. “Afterward, if I am judged worthy…?”

“Then you will serve Leviathan at my side, ascended to an exquisite emptiness, wreathed with dark blessings. The true beauty of suffering will transform you one final time – and you shall crush eternity beneath you.”

“And I will be yours,” she whispered, afraid she dared too much.

His fingers tilted her face up to his and his mouth covered hers in a sacred touch, presenting her with his gifts again in a glorious mix that left her deliciously weak. When he released her, she could still feel the press of the pins against her face.

“In the moment that I claim your soul, you will know your true name – and all of Chaos will tremble.”

He led her down the corridor, through the song of the Black Diamond, to the Chamber of the Schism.

Lenore had never seen it opened before. The breach between the worlds began as a tear in the air of the room, and then the Schism took the form of a brick wall that shook and separated. The force of the breach destroyed many unseen things beyond it, opened wider, and finally shuddered still.

Xipe Totec stood before it. With his will alone, he summoned chains. They issued from the substance of Hell itself and erupted into the human world, barbed and lethal. The screams they dragged from the living, bleeding being in the room beyond were deafening.

When he moved into the breach, Lenore started to follow. Then she found Angelique at her side and the woman’s pale and mutilated beauty, the form of a female Cenobite, froze her in fascination.

“Wait upon his will,” Angelique intoned, her voice full of dark echoes. “You shall follow after – but this one’s blood belongs to our lord.”

She watched him claim the skin, the blood, and finally the soul. The pain of it was numbing in its glory but a twist of human jealousy grew in her at the sight of it. This being, this flesh, gave the Cenobite pleasure – as intensely as he had given it to her.

The will to be worthy burned in the withering heat of her rage at the human male who had shared this intimacy with Leviathan’s Chosen.

Xipe Totec turned, his hands uplifted to receive her. She passed through the Schism without a thought or fear and reveled in the pleasure of his touch as he drew her into his arms, soaking her shift with the blood that clung to him.

“I shall leave you here, in the care of one who will find you. Do not fear the veil that will cover your memory – seek the patterns of the Lament Configuration and you shall know again who you are and who awaits your return.”

“I obey, Vasa Iniquitatis.”

“What are the lessons, child?”

“Pleasure … and pain….”

“Indivisible.”

The Schism swallowed him and without his strength of will, she fell to her knees on the blood-soaked floor of a strange human structure. Swaying, her mind falling into a fog, she stared at the place where the Cenobite had stood. As his name fled her thoughts, she slumped to the floor. A crushing loss claimed her, spinning her into darkness.


	9. Cloven Destiny

“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.”  
– Mark Twain

**************************************************************************************

“Five minutes and we’re out, okay?”

“I don’t mind,” Joey assured her.

She watched as Kirsty fought a stubborn deadbolt lock on the door of the house she’d been working on selling before she had arrived and put the woman’s life on hold. The deadbolt almost won. Leaning on the door, she looked back at Joey after the lock had finally clicked.

“I used to daydream about my life, had a vague idea of what I wanted to do. No concrete plan, I was sort of a disorganized person. I knew I wanted to be happy, maybe successful – at something. The last twenty years of my life just didn’t deliver, you know?”

When she turned and opened the door, a stench seeped out of it over them. Kirsty let go of the doorknob and it swung wide, revealing the stiffening spread of red that still dripped from the living room carpet onto the tile of the foyer. The house was silent, offering none of its secrets.

“Oh my God,” Joey whispered.

Kirsty didn’t answer. She swallowed hard and pushed her hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. Then she stepped inside.

“Wait – don’t go in there!” Joey tried to stop her but Kirsty moved beyond her reach. “Someone could still be in there.”

“Someone was.”

Joey came up behind her and saw it over her shoulder – a spray of flesh, viscera and blood. The living room was painted in it. The largest section of the mess might be a second corpse but the first had been torn apart in a way that was all too familiar to them both.

All of her nightmares crowded in on her at once. Fighting evil seemed abruptly ludicrous – how could she fight something that could do … that?

Kirsty’s voice, hard and impersonal, intruded on her thoughts. “Gary Atkins.”

Joey turned. “How –?”

“That’s his briefcase.” Kirsty pointed to the bar counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.

The white kitchen had been sprayed with red through the wide opening. The briefcase was open and spilled paper contents littered the wet tiles and carpet on both sides.

“He kept saying this house was perfect.”

Joey barely heard her over the dull roaring noise in her head. Sickness threatened but she fought it back. She’d seen worse in the Boiler Room. “How do we know they aren’t still here?”

“They aren’t. He doesn’t stick around much.” Kirsty began looking the room over carefully, trying not to step in the blood, which was impossible.

“How do you know it was him? If there are a lot of Cenobites –”

“It was him. This is too close to me.”

“Coincidence?”

“I never believed in it.”

“What are you doing? We should call the police.”

“There has to be a box here. I can’t let it end up in the wrong hands.”

Joey watched her in shock. If they managed to avoid becoming suspects, it would be difficult to convince the cops that they had hesitated to call because they’d seen it all before. She could argue that she was a reporter, expected to snoop around a crime scene for a story – but what about Kirsty?

“There!” She minced nearer to the hunched shape lying in front of the curtained windows.

“Is that another body?” Joey asked. It seemed oddly intact if it was.

“Yes,” Kirsty whispered. “A girl – and she’s holding the box.”

“A friend of Mr. Atkins?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before and I’m fairly sure he didn’t have friends.”

Kirsty reached out for the cube. It was clutched tightly in the hand. She tugged at it. The form moved and groaned. Kirsty almost fell backward to get away but didn’t scream.

“I can’t believe it … she’s alive,” she whispered.

The girl rolled to her back and her eyes flew open but she seemed confused, not afraid. Joey moved closer. “Are you hurt?”

Wide blue eyes blinked at her. The girl’s body moved awkwardly but as she tried to sit up, Kirsty reached out to help her. The white nightgown she wore was soaked and smeared with blood but from the way she moved, she didn’t seem to be injured at all.

“Can you speak?” Kirsty asked. “Did you see that man open the box? This – did you see him open it?”

She looked down at the object in her hand and appeared to be mesmerized by it at once. When Kirsty reached to take it, she had to force it away from the girl.

“Come on, we have to call the police,” Joey urged. “They can help her – find her family.”

Kirsty didn’t respond. She was staring at the blonde hair and blank expression of the girl, who sat in a pool of blood without a cut on her. The girl tried to touch the box again but Kirsty slipped it into her coat pocket. Standing to her feet, she helped the girl to rise, steadying her when she couldn’t seem to balance herself.

“We can’t call anyone. I’m not giving her to them.”

“They can help her and she may know something about this.”

“So she’ll tell them and they won’t help her. She’ll wake up in a hospital bed where the doors are locked and people talk to her like she’s a stupid baby or a crazy idiot. The more she explains, the longer they’ll keep her locked up. I know all about how they help. I’m not doing that to her. If she’s capable of saying who she is, where she belongs, she will. Until then, I’m getting her out of here.”

“What if we end up implicated? This is major tampering with a crime scene.”

“I don’t think so. He wouldn’t want that. This is here for me to see; it’s a hint or a reminder but without doubt a calling card. It’ll all be gone when we leave.”

Joey stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

Kirsty sighed. “I’ve seen this before.”

“So have I – but I think of the two of us, I’m the one who is more disturbed.”

Leading the girl around the worst messes in the room, Kirsty helped her walk. “They’ll clean it up. Not Cenobites, something else. I’ve never seen them do it but I’ve come back to – to this – before. There was nothing left. If we call the police, they won’t find anything and they’ll put this girl away forever if she tells what she knows. Now are you going to help me or not?”

The question startled her. “With what?”

“She’s covered with blood. Get one of the curtains from a back bedroom; we’ll wrap her in that. If anyone stops us, she’s our drunk friend, got it?”

In a daze, Joey went into the hall to find curtains. The house looked so normal here. The change was as much of a shock as the horror in the front room. Taking down one side of the curtains in the first bedroom she came to, she folded them over her arm and paused before heading back.

She could understand Kirsty’s point of view about the girl’s fate – it had all happened to the eighteen year old Kirsty Cotton – and she had spent most of the intervening years trying to overcome the trauma she had endured at the hands of Cenobites and doctors alike.

Yet her words now implied other experiences she hadn’t mentioned and a disturbing familiarity with the demon that had hunted them both. Shuddering, she walked back into the hall to rejoin a woman whom she had thought she understood completely.

A breeze from the end of the hall struck her and made her coat flutter. Curious, Joey did a quick walk-through around the rest of the house and found what had to be the entry point of Mr. Atkins. A window in the back bedroom had been broken. It was low enough for a man to climb through easily and led in from a sheltered back yard.

Had he known what would happen? No, they never did. Elliott had told her that. They open the box hoping for unearthly pleasures – but they all find the same thing. Frowning, she turned away and headed back to her partner in crime.

“She may not be able to talk,” Kirsty said as she took the curtain and began wrapping the girl in it. “Tampered with like Tiffany was, maybe, or something else, I don’t know – but she isn’t afraid of us or anything else here.”

“What if she’s the one who used the box on your customer?”

Kirsty shook her head. “She didn’t open the box. If she had, she’d look like him.”

They got their mute companion into Kirsty’s car, hopefully without anyone in the neighborhood seeing her. The house was locked again and remained as quiet as it had been before. Joey watched it in the rearview mirror from the backseat as she held the girl upright against her.

_Are hellish creatures really going to arrive to make the place pristine again, leaving no evidence behind? How does Kirsty know they might? She said she had seen it happen before but why would they do that?_

~ ~ ~

Joey sat on the living room floor again, next to her box of documents. The sound of the shower had stopped. Her hands were motionless in her lap and she stared at them as if they might have the answers to all of the riddles if she only studied them long enough.

A door down the hall opened and Kirsty reappeared, still helping the girl walk. She was in a bathrobe, with a towel spread under her damp golden hair. They sat on the couch and Kirsty looked at Joey with a thoughtful expression on her face.

Kirsty Cotton was thirty-eight now, only five years her senior. She was full of vitality and beautiful and it was hard to imagine her looking as shell-shocked and confused as the teen girl at her side.

Yet Joey had seen it – in a videotaped psychiatric session. In that video, Kirsty had been angry but the bewildered expression of hopeless fear she had worn was similar to this girl’s. She hadn’t seemed afraid in the bloody house, however. Maybe the shock of it was wearing off.

“Not a mark on her,” Kirsty said, “and not a word spoken.”

“That doesn’t mean she can’t speak. If she isn’t hurt, why does she need help walking?”

“That’s strange – it’s like she isn’t used to her body.” Kirsty shrugged, at a loss. “There’s nothing wrong with her that I can see.”

Joey watched the other woman closely. “How do you know so much about the Cenobite’s habits – or that Hell has a clean-up crew?”

“I’ve had more than one chance meeting with him.” She sighed. “He’s consistent.”

“Not really. From what you’ve said, he was acting very different when I met him.”

Kirsty looked at the silent teen who was staring at her own hands in the same detached way Joey had moments before. “You want to hear the real story? About Trevor?”

“Yes.”

“I think he committed suicide because he was about to be convicted of four murders. The victims … were his boss, our neighbor, and an acupuncturist he was going to – all women. The last victim was a man, a co-worker.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

“They had enough evidence to prove it but I always questioned… See, the murders were done with a crazed viciousness. A lot of the elements were too like the Cenobites’ work to ignore. I’ve never known the truth of it – but I’m haunted by the thought that Trevor could have been innocent. Maybe the Cenobites killed them all and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“All along, you’ve kept this to yourself?”

“You have to understand – I’ve learned better than to tell everything I know, to anyone. I thought the best way to avoid a strait jacket was to let them call it suicide over guilt from the murders.”

“And the custodians from Hell? What’s up with that?”

Kirsty looked at her. “It sounds nuts, I know … but I walked into a scene like that once, just a week before I left New York. I got out fast, but then returned later to prove to myself I hadn’t imagined it. My proof wasn’t there but I knew what I saw. I assumed they’d come and cleaned it up. The mystery is why would creatures like that care?”

“I can’t imagine. I’ve had a conversation with a ghost and vied with a demon but I’m not a shrink for the damned.”

Kirsty answered in a grim whisper, “I decided it could be as simple as ‘waste not, want not’.”

The newest houseguest moved abruptly, reaching out her hand to the coffee table. She picked up the photo of the army captain that both women owed their lives to. Touching his face as Joey often did, her eyes widened.

“Father,” she breathed.

~ ~ ~

“She can’t be Elliott’s daughter, that’s madness. She’d be over a hundred and she barely looks seventeen,” Joey protested.

“Tell her that.” Kirsty had dressed the girl in her own light green jogging suit. Her hair was drying into a mass of heavy golden curls. “She has his eyes, anyway.”

Joey ignored the joke. She looked at the girl who sat in a kitchen chair sipping apple juice through a straw. “Can you remember your name, anything about where you come from, or how you got to that house?”

She always stared in silence for a moment before answering. It reminded Joey of a person who had learned English as a second language and was translating the questions in her head before replying.

“He named me after the light … but I don’t remember.” The voice was sweet, like a bell; her wide blue eyes were shy and sad.

The girl herself was a marvel. She resembled a friend Joey had gone to college with, who was now modeling in New York. Her skin was not only flawless, it shined. The only mar to the whole of her perfection was on her back. That was the biggest mystery yet.

Kirsty had told her about the tattoo after getting the girl cleaned up. It didn’t resemble the sketch of the Elysium Configuration Channard had, it completed it. They had asked questions carefully, taking it slow, but she could tell them nothing about it, insisting it had always been there.

She had a tender constitution and had thrown up once before Kirsty decided to take it easy and just give her juice. They put her in the bedroom across from Joey’s and Kirsty watched over her until she fell asleep.

When she returned to the living room, Joey scooted over on the couch. Her hostess sat, looking preoccupied and nervous. “Maybe we should take her to a doctor anyway, just to be sure she’s all right.”

“Doctors ask questions and they require names, along with a slew of numbers and other missing information.”

“Make up a name to use. She’s too young for a social security number to be required. She could be your cousin and she hasn’t been feeling well. Full check up requested. Easy.”

“You’ve done this before?” Kirsty smiled.

“I’m a reporter. Making up stuff to get around the rules is part of my job.”

“What if we find out something modern science can’t explain?”

“Like what? She’s not an alien.”

Kirsty picked up the photo of Elliott. “What’s the deal, huh?” She was silent, staring at the image as if seriously expecting an answer. Her face became a pale mask of fear in moments but she still made no sound.

“What is wrong?”

Kirsty’s voice was a haunted whisper. “What if the Cenobite wasn’t picking up this time – what if he was dropping off?”


	10. Flesh, Hunger, and Desire

“Others have seen what is and asked why. I have seen what could be and asked why not.”  
– Pablo Picasso

**************************************************************************************

A shadow moved behind the stylized rose of the stained glass window. When the door opened, a woman of exquisite wickedness emerged. Her smile was beguiling, if a little crooked over her mouth. She wore a close-fitting long-sleeved linen shirt the color of blood and the enticing scent of the blood-stained cloth enveloped her.

“My lord,” Julia addressed him, her eyes glancing down coquettishly. “Did you want me?” The crooked smile insinuated possibilities.

Xipe Totec was silent, listening to the howls of rage issuing from the door behind her as it closed with a slow click. Her hands, a delicate confection of bone and red muscle, entwined with white tendons, plucked at the long black silk skirt she had acquired somewhere along the halls of Hell.

“How is Frank Cotton today?” he asked her finally.

“Very well – gullible in his expectations as always. He assumes the flame of lust must rekindle eventually. It gets me close enough for what I need.”

“Allowing you to get to the heart of the matter?”

“Such a rich heart – someday his blood will restore me fully.”

“You strive needlessly.” He pinched the flap of flesh at her left collarbone and tugged the skin of her face to straighten the lips over the white fixed teeth of the smile. “Some would call you perfect as you are.”

“Still, it is my dream to serve in my own way, lord. If I am to bring souls to Leviathan, I must be able to pass as a living human.”

“On that day, I will keep my promise and let you pass through the Schism for the glory of the Black Diamond.” He turned from the door. “Walk with me.” She fell into step with him down the endless corridors of the Labyrinth. “In the pursuit of duty, one can find time for the pursuit of pleasure. My purpose encapsulates both. The great gate will be opened – eventually – and then the agent of its creation will fall at last into my hands.”

“Kirsty.” Her voice couldn’t quite hide the contempt she felt for her human step-daughter.

“The Toymaker, Lemarchand. Kirsty, if she is caught in the same net, will be a rare and much-anticipated pleasure.”

“Is it true what they say? That you hope to bring the legendary Merkova back with the soul of our dear Kirsty?”

He ignored the question and turned toward one of the gardens. They passed under the arch into a glistening array of flesh. The human bodies in myriad states of decay and mutilation gave off a pungent perfume. The Cenobite breathed in deeply.

Reaching up to caress a random torso, running his fingers through its dangling viscera, he stared up into its bright green eyes. The lower jaw was missing but if it could speak, would it plead for mercy or beg for more pain? One slow blink of the eyes told him nothing. Yet the hooks that strung it up had been called forth by the awful majesty of Merkova, long ago.

Hell was wreathed and adorned with such beautiful examples of her work and the touch of them gave a dim sense of her, like a blessed echo.

Without turning, he asked, his tone casual, “Who whispers their interpretations of my hopes?”

“I heard it first from Balberith.”

“The Librarian should know better.”

Julia’s delighted and teasing laughter rang out beside him. “She has only your best interests in mind, I think, like all the rest of them. If I may be so bold, my lord … why Kirsty? She is a simpering chaste imbecile.”

“She is much changed from the child you knew. Blood that once adorned her hands has stained her soul. The sweet scent of her hate is an intoxicant.”

“Murder done to serve revenge or to save her own skin – is that worthy of Merkova?”

“Whether or not, I will take her. It will be for my lady to decide if the flesh and soul offered is worthy to house her exalted essence.” Giving the torso a final fond stroke, he turned to Julia. “Would you not prefer to speed your own purpose by taking from the flesh of this place?” His palms lifted to offer up any of the specimens that hung about them.

“And deny Frank the pleasure of my visits?”

The Cenobite smiled. “Indeed. We must keep Uncle Frank entertained.”

“If you allowed me to enter Chaos now, I could ready myself faster, hastening the glory of Leviathan.”

“The glory of Order is not in haste … and your path is a long one by your own choices.”

“My lord, your pardon, always,” she dissembled. “Had I known the Surgeon would challenge your Dark Grace, I would never have led him into Hell.”

“Perhaps. Yet the commandments are against you in this matter … and there remains no seed of your human life in Chaos to allow you to return before your time – if you were curious.”

“My desire is to serve Hell, not to escape it, my lord.”

“You would serve better in the Order of the Gash.”

She took a step backward. “I am not worthy, surely. Restored and alive, I am free of certain binding laws that would slow my collection of souls – all the better to serve.”

“Not worthy, indeed – you are still blinded by the lies of human pleasure, human senses.” He regarded her in silence a moment and then turned away, leaving her in the garden of flesh, watched by many who had lacked the favor of Leviathan that she enjoyed. “Plan your next campaign carefully, Julia – if you fail again, the pleasures of these,” his fingers swept wide to include the extensive garden as he walked away from her, “may be all that is left to you.”

~ ~ ~

When the Schism opened again, he sent the Cenobite Face to play with the fallen one who had solved a very different puzzle. Watching the inventive play he made, Xipe Totec was caught up in the scarlet drops that ran down the threads of the giant loom. Warp and weft, they dripped together to form a spreading pool.

Shimmering there between the strands, a taunting mirage waited – a shadow that could have been the equine profile of the one that eluded him.

_Do you make me wait out of some game of your own? Or has the Harrower’s blade that sundered you left you unable to consume another soul and be reborn? What if the soul of Kirsty is not enough?_

Her name tugged at his thoughts. Was she dreaming again? He had not felt that feather-touch of her mind since she had consummated her bargain – when he had gone to collect the final gift she offered: the soul of her adulterous husband.

Following the sense of her, he found at last a dream of strange and enticing promise. Kirsty walked there – a thing of flesh and restless desire, tormented by hungers her waking mind could not accept as her own.

A smile on his cold lips, he slipped into her dream with such skill that she did not perceive his presence.

The image of the blonde woman Tiffany was familiar but her face was shifting into the visage of his acolyte – if she could lure Kirsty, all the better. Then the form changed entirely into one that surprised him. It was male, dressed in a uniform from one of humanity’s countless wars. Devoid of the dark blessings of Leviathan, this incubus wore his face.

 _I never got a chance to thank you for saving us,_ her dreaming mind whispered.

Her hands slid up his shoulders. Eyes closing, her lips parted, she waited for the being to move and embrace her, to take his pleasure in her. Yet the dream fought her and the image of the male did not respond. Her own unconscious guilt held it back.

Xipe Totec stepped into the image seamlessly. What would she reveal to herself if her desires were acknowledged?

Modulating his voice into the crisp British dialect of the being he wore, he smiled and answered her, his arms rising to crush her against him in the course manner of the children of Chaos. _You are welcome, Kirsty._

She relaxed in his embrace with a sigh of longing. _Elliott… The Cenobite said it wasn’t a gift freely given. I can’t give him my soul – but I could give you … whatever you might want._

_Come now … surely the souls you gave him were enough? Such a mystery you are, so afraid of your own hungers. What do you want?_

_Control. I want someone incapable of betraying me._

_Subjugated to your brutal will … yes … you could be worthy of my dark angel._ He bent to kiss her shocked face.

Her fear as she struggled to break free of sleep was exquisite. When she woke and escaped his influence, he could still taste her desire – the denied drives that her own mind called perverted but his called ecstasy.

His hands gripped the cold stone of his chair, fingers stroking it in memory of Merkova’s diamond-hard black cloven hooves.

What time had passed since he had felt the touch of her talons or the silken flesh and fur of her thighs pinning him as her hooks tore his blood from delicious rents? How long had it been when her long tongue lapped the blood through the muzzle of bone sewn to her face? Turning his gifts on her until her delicate tall frame had shuddered with waves of pain. The song of his many names in her throat echoed in his memory, pulsing like the voice of Leviathan as their coupling gave worship unto him they served.

Leaning his head back until the jeweled pins struck the chair, he closed his black eyes. Shades around him shifted, feeling their master’s restless pent desire. Yet not one dared to offer itself to him for his pleasure. All knew that the Angel of the Abyss awaited the return of a fearsome and singular creature – and all the blood and pain in Chaos or in Hell was not enough to take her place at his side.


	11. Different Paths

“I loved her, not for the way she danced with my angels but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons.”  
– Christopher Pointdexter

**************************************************************************************

“Elliott Spenser died in 1921. In India, when it was still under British control,” Joey said. “He was a captain in the British Expeditionary Force on the Western Front. He participated in the Battle of the Somme in 1916 and in the Battle of Passchendaela in 1917.” She shivered.

Kirsty leaned her head back against the open door she was leaning on. “So those notes about PTSD and survivor’s guilt were probably gross underestimations of his trauma.”

“Definitely. Two of the bloodiest battles in human history – more than one million men were wounded or killed along the River Somme. To live through both, seeing so much death … I can understand why he looked to lost and … sad. In Channard’s notes, he was observed going into his tent and never seen again. What little he owned was still there but there was no evidence of the captain’s death.”

“Even though we know he opened a puzzle box and ended up as … him. Hell’s clean-up crew at work.”

“Look at this. It’s the letter. He must have written it just before he opened the box.”

Kirsty took the paper, leaving it in its plastic protective cover. She glanced at the date, and then studied the handwriting, the words misting out of focus. He wrote in a neat small hand, a precise and beautiful print.

Glancing up from her post in the bedroom doorway, she watched the girl sleep. Breakfast would be ready soon, and then the day would be busy. A vague fragment of her dream rose in her mind as she stared down at the letter again. Suppressing a shudder, she began to read.

India, 1921

Ian,

The last time I held a pen, there were things to tell you,  
things to share. I am sorry for my long silence.  
In the years since the madness of war, I have  
walked a very different path.

I know I am alive, one of the few of our generation  
to survive the  trenches, because the body still hungers  
and thirsts, and requires sleep. Yet what of the soul, the  
spirit? I do not speak of the mind. It is dulled by vice,  
incapable of a sense of fulfillment. For the soul, there  
is no hunger, no desire, for anything in this world. You  
will not want to know where the pursuit of lost sensation  
has led me – your once naïve and God-fearing brother –  
but my journeys in the world and in the spirit have only  
shown me that there is nothing left to experience that can  
give me back myself.

Here, in this strange country full of ghastly beauty,  
I have come to the end of a long search. If all goes as I hope,  
perhaps I could learn to live again.

In answer to your pleas, I do not know when I might  
come home. Tell little Lenore that her brother loves her.  
Perhaps some day I will look in her eyes again and  
feel peace, far from the memories of the horrors of war.  
Do not look for me.

\- Elliott.

A slight nausea threatened. He had believed the box would save him, call him back from the nightmare of war. Chasing pleasure as Frank had, yes, but in a quest to reclaim his own soul, to be more than a human automaton with deadened nerves.

“Did you read it?” she asked, but she knew Joey had – her eyes were bright with tears. She watched the other woman nod. “It’s always the same lie. Pleasures beyond normal understanding – but do they ever stop to think what that could mean? The Cenobites’ views on pleasure are obviously a far cry from most humans’. They’ve got one hell of an advertising campaign, no doubt about that.”

Carefully, Kirsty took the letter out of the plastic cover and laid it on top of it. As her fingertips stroked lightly down the words, she felt an almost electric sensation that made the fine white hairs on her arms stand up.

“I wonder if anyone ever told his family – anything,” Joey whispered.

“India in the 1920s and nothing left behind but a pith helmet? If anyone there knew who he was at all, they probably assumed he drifted on somewhere else.” Kirsty replaced the letter in the plastic. “This was probably the last they ever heard from him. I wonder how old the sister was?”

“He was probably the eldest or this Ian would have been in the fighting, too.”

“I never paid much attention in school to World Wars.” Kirsty handed the letter back to Joey and turned to check on breakfast. “But reading that…”

“Makes you hurt for him,” Joey said, a haunted look on her face. “Can I ask you why you originally opened the box?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t read the billboards on the ultimate experience, I know that. I’d just woken up in a mental hospital after escaping Frank. No one would tell me anything and it was sitting there… I think it lures people into solving it, whether you hunt for and study it for years or just stumble across it.” She turned off burners and headed to the table with the skillet. “Didn’t you ever feel it?”

“No … but I saw what it could do first, and then Elliott told me what it was. He took all the exploratory curiosity right out of me.”

Kirsty smiled, trying to forget her upset. “Why don’t you wake up the conundrum and we’ll get a start on our day.”

~ ~ ~

Joey stood in front of the living room windows, her cell phone to her ear. “May I speak to Mrs. Ramsay, please? Summerskill, Joanne. It’s about a family heirloom she has. Yes. No, I came across a copy of it, and I thought she’d be interested. Yes, thank you, I’ll hold.” She rolled her eyes in their direction.

Kirsty had shown the girl Elliott’s letter, and her insights had been shocking. She also insisted that the name ‘Lenore’ was what he called her. Joey had looked it up, and the baby name sites did list it as meaning ‘light’.

“I can’t remember much,” Lenore told her. She was watching Joey pace, her hands twisting on her flannel nightgown. “He was quiet if he wasn’t telling me stories or teaching me.”

“Teaching what?”

“To read and write.”

“What were the stories like?”

“Mostly about the war. It made him sad.”

She had mentioned enough facts about the conflict that morning to prove she was a professor of history, a participant – or the confidante of one. Kirsty didn’t like how all of it added up but after everything she’d seen, it wasn’t hard to believe that this girl had been raised by a captain of the British Army who had died in 1921 – died opening the box.

Elliott had told Joey in some detail about how he had been transformed into the Cenobite. Later, she had witnessed the two of them being bonded again, and at Elliott’s insistence, returned them to Hell.

If there was no explanation for Lenore’s presence in the house where they found her, then she could have come through the box – from the Labyrinth.

 _Sent by Elliott? Why?_ Her stomach flipped. _Or sent by the Cenobite – and there isn’t any mystery about what he wants, not anymore. What about the dream?_ Her fingers rose to touch her lips. It had been so real, yet Elliott had seemed frighteningly familiar, too. _‘Worthy of my dark angel’? I know you want my soul, but why – to make me what you are?_

“Kirsty?”

“What?” She opened her eyes to see Joey and Lenore staring at her with concern.

“I got us an audience. Feel like an outing?”

“To New York.” Kirsty felt a twinge of misgiving. “Time to go after windmills?”

“No, I want to speak with Bobbi about the drawing. I could go myself, bring photographs, but I was hoping…”

 _Is this what you want?_ she asked her adversary. _A new trap, since I’ve dodged all the others?_ _I told you I was done running – but then I ran away again, to come here. No matter what I do, you keep coming._ She rose from the couch and faced Joey. “This bastard is going to come for me until I die of exhaustion or go mad for real. Well, I’m not going out with a whimper. I can’t call what I’ve done for the past few years living, anyway. Count me in.”

~ ~ ~

Lenore seemed to be gaining confidence and she didn’t need help to walk anymore. Kirsty watched her as they got out of Joey’s car and went up to a beautiful loft condo. The girl had picked up her suitcase, too, and handled it without any trouble.

Unable to resist opening the long white curtains, Kirsty whistled at the top dollar view of Manhattan.

“It’s about time you ate my groceries for a while, anyway,” the reporter quipped with a smile on her second trip inside. She set the box of Channard’s treasures on the coffee table next to her own heavy suitcases. “Make yourselves at home.”

“When are we meeting Mrs. Ramsay?” Kirsty turned from the window as Lenore approached it, her face full of wonder.

“Tomorrow afternoon. She and her husband are meeting us for lunch.” Joey stepped behind Lenore and set her hands on her shoulders. “Which gives us time to take you shopping – you can’t live in a jogging suit your whole life.”

~ ~ ~

That evening, Kirsty sat on Joey’s couch watching Lenore go through the items in the box as Joey played catch-up on the phone.

The girl looked deceptively normal in designer jeans and a white angora sweater. She had draped her new winter coat over the arm of the couch and was leaning against it. The early autumn weather was perfect and cool, but the coat had fascinated her and she had insisted on wearing it out of the store.

She was beautiful and if Kirsty let her mind wander, it went to inappropriate places with embarrassing speed.

Delicate fingers plucked photographs from the box and stared at them, mesmerized. The image from the club, of the Cenobite standing on the upper balcony, almost put the girl in a trance.

“Lenore – have you seen him before? Do you know what he is?” When the girl didn’t answer, she added, “He’s what we’ve been talking about – a Cenobite, from a place called the Labyrinth, or Hell.” The expression on the pretty face was almost worshipful but pained, too. “You know him, don’t you?” she whispered. “Can you remember anything about him?”

Tears rose in the girl’s eyes. “It’s so clouded.”

Kirsty touched her arm gently. “He looks like your father? He’s something else, too. Please try to remember.”

The tears slipped down her face. “He is the Favored Son. He is… I can’t remember!” She turned into Kirsty’s chest and sobbed, the photo trembling in her shaking fingers.

Kirsty held her and murmured soothing nonsense. Brushing the flood of hair back, she kissed her forehead, then her temple. When Lenore looked up at her, Kirsty was caught by the curious expression on the girl’s face. Her guilty conscience twisted.

“It’s late. You should get some sleep.” She watched her walk away to the spare bedroom.

Barely listening as Joey brought her a pillow and blankets, asking if she needed anything else, Kirsty just shook her head and stared out at the lights of the city. Joey went upstairs to her loft bedroom and left her alone in the silent dark living room.

 _Favored Son. Favored by what?_ Changing into a long nightshirt, she lay down under the mound of blankets and hugged the pillow tight as she looked out the windows. _Elliott, if you can hear me … please tell me why she’s here._ _She can’t be a Cenobite and I won’t believe that you mean us any harm, but you’re cheek and jowl with that monster._ Closing her eyes, she whispered, “God help us all.”

~ ~ ~

The nightmare had moved from the gun to the ice pick when she woke. The image of the woman called Sage faded as Kirsty opened her eyes. A slender silhouette leaned over her in its place. Blankets were pulled back and a warm body slipped between hers and the back of the couch.

She was going to ask what was wrong – had the girl had a nightmare, too? Then she reached to hold and comfort and her hands touched smooth naked flesh.

“Don’t speak,” Lenore whispered, her fingers covering Kirsty’s mouth before she could protest. The other hand settled on her right breast and gave it a gentle squeeze. The touch sent a hunger sparking through her long-denied body. “Show me what you want … I want to know.”

Did she consider anything before she simply allowed herself to kiss the girl? Reason fled as she drew her underneath her and fastened starving lips over one of the pink and perfect nipples that had tormented her since she’d first washed a man’s blood from the flawless skin.

Pliant and eager to please, the girl was quick to experiment, too. As Kirsty rose on her knees to strip off her nightshirt, slender fingers touched the wet smooth flesh between her legs, as she had been touched moments before.

It was a shame there was so little moonlight. They were furtive shadows in the dark as Kirsty moved down to part the golden curls and taste her.

Quiet became a problem. Lifting her head, she whispered, “Hush … we can’t wake Joey. She wouldn’t understand. This is only for us. Yeah?”

“Yes,” Lenore murmured, and bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’ve done nothing wrong. Cover your mouth if you need to.” She circled the smooth thighs with her arms and made the girl shudder and buck under her tongue.

When they were still and Lenore lay quiet in her arms, Kirsty tried to ignore her conscience. She was helped along in her efforts when the girl turned to face her, the delicate fingers slipping inside her body again.

“Is this good?” she whispered.

Kirsty couldn’t speak. Arching her back, she spread her legs farther and caught the girl’s mouth in a fierce kiss. All thought abandoned her as pleasure transformed her body.

Dawn was lightening the sky when they were finally still and growing sleepy. It took a certain amount of willpower to make the girl get up and return to her own bed to sleep.

Pulling her nightshirt back over her sated and weary body, she fell into nightmares again as soon as she closed her eyes.

A presence watched her as she raised the gun, unseen but palpable. Sometimes he brushed her closely when she pulled the trigger. Gwen, the office bitch – a tawdry dominatrix type – she’d been Trevor’s boss at the accounting firm. Then the lithe blonde from next door, Tawny – fond of bondage – tied to Kirsty’s bed under her husband while she was at work. The videos she’d found had shown her the things he liked to do to them, things he’d never even asked her to try.

She’d been self-conscious, scarred by the horrors she’d seen, struggling to trust the man she’d fallen so completely in love with. She had always asked him to turn off the lights – as if darkness made her desire easier to express.

Yet Trevor had wanted sordid perversions, not love. Had he laughed at her insecurities – the little white-bread wife? He only stayed in the hope that she would share her inheritance. When he knew she would not, the plan had turned to murder. Was their marriage a lie from the start – or had he loved her once?

The dream melted into the acupuncturist’s office again, where it had broken off before. She had promised the Cenobite she would bring them to him herself – and she had. Hate had guided the ice pick, leaving only a hazy memory of sinking it into the woman, a mystic named Sage. She had seduced Trevor on the table she died on – but Kirsty couldn’t lie to herself about that seduction being a difficult task. He was addicted to it.

 _What is it, Trevor?_ she abruptly screamed at him in the car. _The forbidden, the chase, variety? Don’t lie to me! If you’re going to screw every woman you meet behind my back, the least you can do is admit to it now!_

The raising of the gun – was it still warm from the shot that had dropped his friend Bret head-first into Hell the night before? No – that was just part of the dream.

 _I can’t believe this,_ Trevor had said. _I have a deal._

 _No, you had a deal – but I made a better offer,_ she answered, and cocked the heavy weapon. _And guess what? He took it._

She had watched when they pulled the car from the water, but the trembling hadn’t started until the policeman handed her the box.

The presence moved close again. She felt him as a chill on the back of her neck. _You aren’t Elliott._

The dream moved on like a film projected on her mind’s eye, but she was outside of it, watching herself raise the gun on the co-worker. She had called out his name to make the man turn, not wanting to shoot him in the back. He needed to know who was killing him, this woman he’d seen as nothing but a payday.

 _You have known I am not,_ the Cenobite replied, _and you know why I have come._

_Weren’t they enough?_

_For a time._

_I can’t do it again._

_Then stop this foolish resistance._

_No._

_Why do you cling to this life so stubbornly? Denying your real cravings, you drift in a pointless mortal fog._

_What you want is abhorrent to me._

_Because you do not know yourself. Is it time to make another deal?_

Her dream self plunged the cold metal spike into the warm, screaming flesh. Chilled and aching, she winced. _What do you want?_

_The ritual question, so seductive on your lips. Hold me at bay, Kirsty. Give me the soul of your compatriot – the luscious Joey._

_No! She’s done nothing to me!_

_She has thwarted me. You have a choice. Your soul, at last – or hers._

_Why not Lenore? She’s already yours, isn’t she?_

_The child has no memory of what she is. Give her a puzzle box, you have one to spare, do you not?_

_Creature of Hell or not, I won’t let you use her to reach me._

_Knowledge is power. The flesh of the box will make her remember. She could give you my name … and tell you how to defeat me._

_I don’t believe you. It’s a trick._

_Poor Kirsty. Unable to trust, unwilling to share._

The persuasive compassion brought her to tears even as she reminded herself he would lie to serve his own ends.

_When this life wearies you, perhaps you will taste my pleasures at last. Yet the longer you delay the more souls I shall demand. Will you see the blood of hundreds on your hands?_

_Why! Why me?_ Her fists clenched as she asked the question.

_You are enticing – does it not please you? You who shed blood in rage because one who should have loved you treated you as nothing? You have won the suit of the Prince of Hell, who would have you alone over the vast ranks of humanity._

_I won’t hurt them … and I can keep away from you, demon._

_Still running? A shame. Shall we see how long?_


	12. Elysium

“And, after all, what is a lie? ‘Tis but the truth in masquerade.”  
– Lord Byron

**************************************************************************************

Joey twitched when the phone rang. She answered it, but continued to watch Lenore while her boss argued with her about being out of town so long.

The blonde sat on the couch where she had spent the morning staring at Elliott’s photo. Kirsty had pulled her off to the guest bedroom to help her select an outfit for lunch, but she’d returned to her strange vigil after she changed.

“Yes, I will,” she spoke into the phone. “I’m meeting Mrs. Ramsay and her husband Tom for lunch, in just an hour or so. Thanks for getting me the contact info. I promise I’ll get on that homeless story right after I wrap this up. Okay?” Stifling a sigh, she hung up. “Don’t even bother with a Social Security card,” Joey said to Lenore. “It leads to employment, which leads to a need for Aerobic Scream Therapy.”

Kirsty entered the room on that comment. “She’d need a birth certificate first.” Sitting next to Lenore, she turned with her arm on the back of the couch to face Joey. “I think we should take her to a specialist here, get more tests run.”

“She’s fine. That physical in Boston was pretty complete.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, we should get going. I’m hoping we can talk Bobbi into letting us follow her home. I’d love to get a photo of the original Elysium plans.”

Kirsty rose, holding herself as if she were cold. “That wouldn’t be a good idea. Ask her to bring it or something.”

“She probably wouldn’t let us in her house, but there’s no harm in asking.”

“Yes, there is.” She took a deep breath. “This woman is the mother of Jack Merchant. Is she raising his son herself?”

Joey picked up her car keys. “Yes – his name is Louis.”

“And he’s what – two years old?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good and helpless – and the last of the bloodline. I don’t think it’d be smart for any of us to know where that baby lives.” She studied Joey, expectant.

“You’re afraid the Cenobite could steal the knowledge from our dreams.”

“Aren’t you?” Kirsty gave Lenore a hand up and walked with her to the door. As they put on their coats, she smiled. “Let’s go. Your windmills are waiting.”

~ ~ ~

It was the same Chinese restaurant Kirsty had once gone to with her father when they’d first moved to New York City. She hadn’t said why she wanted to meet Merchant’s widow there and Joey hadn’t asked.

Maybe it was just a desire to see the place again? A brief twist of jealousy soured her thoughts. Her father had died before she was born; all she had to remember him by were medals and mementos from the war, and a few faded photographs. Kirsty had spent a big part of her life with Larry Cotton, from her birth until his death. She must have a wealth of memories attached to places, things – that could help her recall details of him in a hundred ways. Kirsty met her eyes and Joey tried to smile.

“There they are,” her friend said, and steered Lenore in the direction of a pale, thin woman with copper hair. Joey watched them a moment before following.

The man with Bobbi, her second husband, rose when they approached and shook hands as Kirsty made introductions. Tom Ramsay’s handshake was firm. Joey took the chair next to him and tried to reconcile him with her assumptions.

He had been a butcher at a small family-owned shop, but his brother managed the shop now, while Tom ran the business as it grew into a chain. Her background research had also revealed a strain on the marriage – Bobbi had been put in rehab twice for alcoholism since the loss of her daughter and son.

The man next to her didn’t look like a haggard ex-butcher. If she’d met him on the street she would have guessed he was a cop. His hair was cut short, but stubborn waves here and there implied it would grow out to a mop of thick gold curls if he let it. An even tan and heavy trim physique added to the image of a uniformed officer – yet instead, he wore a designer suit.

Kirsty was handling the initial small-talk as they all looked over their menus. Grateful for a chance to size them up, Joey turned to glance at Bobbi on Tom’s right.

She looked as tired as she’d sounded on the phone. She was still an attractive woman, but she had allowed her beauty to fade. Her make-up didn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes, and the dress showed that she had lost a lot of weight.

“You wouldn’t like that, hon,” Kirsty told Lenore. “That red symbol means it’s hot. Try that one.”

Tom asked what Bobbi wanted and told the waiter her order. Joey asked for a spicy dish and turned back to Tom. “Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay.”

“Please call me Tom. Bobbi said you had something to show us.”

“The drawing from your first husband’s ancestor,” she said to Bobbi. “Kirsty and I came across an unusual representation of it.”

“You said you were bringing it?” he asked.

“We did.” Joey glanced at Lenore who was watching them quietly. “It’s tattooed on her back.”

~ ~ ~

“My God…” Bobbi sank into a chair in a corner of the ladies room. “How?”

Kirsty helped Lenore refasten her bra. The girl tugged her sweater down again and turned. “She doesn’t remember anything about it,” Kirsty said.

Joey took a deep breath and plunged. “I can’t shake the idea that it’s a very important thing. This Elysium Configuration – it’s something John Merchant was developing, isn’t it?”

“He was doing a lot that he never told me about,” Bobbi replied. “There was a woman, too. Her name was Angelique.”

Lenore stared at her. “I know that name.”

“Not this one,” Bobbi said, and her expression twisted. It was hard to gauge if she was about to cry or be sick. “This woman was evil and she was with that demon. She tried to threaten Jack to make John operate his machine.”

“But the machine didn’t work?” Kirsty asked.

“No – I don’t know why – but the box did. I figured out how to make it send them back. After he – killed John … he took the woman with him and they disappeared.”

Joey touched her shoulder gently. “Does Tom know the whole story?”

“Yes.” She wiped at tears. “We should go back. He’ll want to know about this, if it could help find Renée. He still … thinks we might find her – but she was so little … so little.”

Tom watched them return, pulling out Bobbi’s chair for her and stroking her hair once. “Is it really like the drawing at the house?”

“Not like. It is.” She sipped her ice water and fell silent.

“It’s the same, but it’s different, too,” Joey told him. “There are changes, additions. I’m going to get photographs of it this afternoon.”

“You should come to our house, see the original?”

Joey and Kirsty looked at each other. “That might not be a good thing,” Kirsty said.

~ ~ ~

The clock chimed four times as Joey arrived home, camera in hand. The envelope with the color 8x10 photos of Lenore’s back was under her arm.

Tom was pacing in front of the windows. Kirsty sat on the couch with Bobbi where the framed eighteenth century sketch was propped between them. Lenore sat on a kitchen barstool, watched by Bobbi.

“Well, here goes,” Joey announced. Setting down the camera, she opened the envelope and stood the photos up against the glass over the sketch.

“Is it slightly stretched?” Tom asked.

“The doctor we took her to in Boston said the ink looked about a year old, but she could have grown in that time, distorting it a little.”

“A year old?” Bobbi whispered. “Tom … tell them.”

He ran his fingers through his hair nervously and faced them. “When we found where Jack had taken Renée… There were inks and tools for tattooing. They’re still held as evidence at the precinct. Jack’s fingerprints were on all of it.”

“No sign of either of your children?” Kirsty asked Bobbi.

The woman held herself and stared at the floor.

“There was,” Tom answered. “The detectives had someone bring in something that showed where blood had been, even if it’s cleaned up.” He moved to sit beside his wife. “It glowed all over the room, floor, and walls – even the ceiling.” Bobbi sobbed and he held her close. “They found evidence that proved both of them had been there. They couldn’t prove either of them ever left.”

The only sound in the condo was the ticking clock and Bobbi’s sobs. Lenore slipped off of her stool and fetched a glass of cold water for her. The woman touched her hands when she took it and smiled at her through her tears.

“I should take her home,” Tom muttered.

Joey nodded. “Can we call? Later?”

“Yes. I need to figure this out. I have friends on the police force and they keep the files open, but I know they think I should give up. They’ve pronounced Jack dead; we had a service last year, but… I can’t give up on my little girl. I won’t.”

~ ~ ~

“What do you think?” Kirsty asked after dinner.

“Bobbi said he knew the whole story. I think he only knows what she does, and might not believe half of it.” Joey sipped her wine. “It sounds crazy, if you haven’t seen it yourself. Knock it into sane terms and he’s probably thinking they were just criminals who walked in off the street to threaten her husband and son.”

“From what she said, she wouldn’t know about the Cenobites’ usual calling cards. All she saw the box do was send them back.”

“Jack opened one. He must have, heaven knows why. He tattooed his sister, and then got dragged into Hell.”

Kirsty glanced into the living room where Lenore was mesmerized by the television. “Are we going to sit here and pretend we don’t know what she is?”

“I was trying to.”

“No one left that rickety warehouse. Not the teen boy who decorated the room and not any little tattooed girls.”

“Lenore is the same age as Jack. Renée would be five now, not seventeen.”

“We’ve both seen some crazy things, but you never toured the Labyrinth. I saw the thing the Cenobites worship and I saw some of their – I guess you’d call it technology. They could have done something, changed her.”

Joey watched her in silence. She couldn’t feel surprise. It all made a sickening kind of insane sense – for everything but the reason why.

“I think she’s got some sort of amnesia,” Kirsty continued, “and touching a puzzle box could help her remember everything.”

Joey slowly set down her glass and rose to her feet. “Even if you’re right – maybe we don’t want to do that.”

Kirsty looked up at her with a strange smile on her lips. “Precisely.”

~ ~ ~

Joey lay awake in her loft bedroom, staring into the dark. The condo was quiet. Kirsty had traded Lenore the guest bedroom for the couch, and then finally convinced the girl to turn off the television and go to sleep.

She wished she could do the same, but Kirsty’s theory was a frightening prospect and the whole problem kept turning over and over in her mind. Kirsty herself was beginning to worry her, too.

It was the old dream of her father’s death in Vietnam that claimed her when she finally fell asleep. She walked through it now as if it were a familiar play. When the helicopter wouldn’t return for her wounded father, she screamed at it and pleaded with it as always.

_Stop! Come back! My daddy’s still alive! You have to save my daddy!_

_Joey._

Behind her, a familiar voice had spoken her name with a British accent. Was it really him? She turned, her long white baby doll nightgown blowing against her ankles in the wind of the helicopter blades.

 _Elliott?_ The uniform, the eyes – it was him. _Thank God._ _I’ve wanted so much to talk to you! I think we’re all headed for trouble._ As he opened his mouth to speak, he began to fade. _Elliott!_

A flicker, and then he was more solid again, but he still looked like a ghost – translucent and half-formed. _I’m weak, barely able to reach you – and there’s no time to waste._

Joey ran to him. She tried to touch his shoulder, but her hand passed through it. She gasped. _You were bound to him again. Elliott, please – he’s not here somehow with you?_ She took a step back.

_He is in this plane of existence, yes. Troubling someone else’s dreams, or I couldn’t be here. Joey, listen to me. He still wants the barriers between Hell and Earth broken – and he wants to force the heir of the Lemarchand bloodline to complete the family design for his war._

_That’s impossible. The heir is –_

_Don’t!_ _He held up his hand._ _It may not be safe for me to know about him. If the heir cannot turn the design into the breach he wants, he will kill him to end the bloodline. You must protect him at all costs._

_Yes. Kirsty said we shouldn’t even know where he lives. We’ve spoken with his family. Bobbi is a mess, but her new husband wants to know more._

_Beware of Kirsty Cotton._

_Why? Elliott, please help me to understand. Have you tried to reach her?_

_I haven’t been successful. He watches her, wants her – and her will is crumbling over time._

_Help her._

_I cannot. My influence only strengthens his. It was through me that he gained a foothold in her mind – but she is strong. I only hope that she can keep him at a stalemate._

_I don’t understand. You could talk to her, tell her she’s in danger._

_She knows that, all too well. She fights him – but he has appeared to her as me and she may not trust me now._ His expression was sad. _There’s more. I have to ask you this, but it could be very dangerous._

_Tell me._

_Lenore. Help her to be simply human. She cannot be allowed near the Merchant heir. I had made her promise to seek out her human family again, but now that the demon’s plans are clear, it is too great a risk. He would use her to get to the heir, and to make Kirsty fall._

_Then it’s true ... Kirsty’s right. Lenore is Renée. How?_

_That doesn’t matter now – time is short. She was sent into the world to learn about human sensation, pain and pleasure. She is learning more about pleasure now._

_How is she a danger to Kirsty?_

_She is a danger to you all, unless she gives up the desire to become a servant of the Labyrinth. If she remembers her love for the Cenobite, she will try to bring him into the world again, to claim her. And she will do anything that he asks._

_Oh my God._ Joey’s fingers rose to her lips. The meadow at the edge of the woodland grew dark as the sun shot across the sky in seconds, turning her dream into empty night.

_He is coming. There is good in her, Joey. Teach her to want a human life._

_Wait – Elliott, wait!_

He was fading into the rising shadows. _Wake up, Joey. Wake up!_

Blackness covered her. She felt a chill. He was coming – the Cenobite. Joey held herself tightly and screamed.

~ ~ ~

It was still dark when she woke in a panic. Breathless, she checked the clock by her bed. Four o’clock, nearly dawn. Joey got out of bed and went downstairs silently. She didn’t want to wake Lenore, but Kirsty should be told about the dream.

They were in this together, depending on each other. She believed Elliott’s warnings, but she couldn’t believe Kirsty might hurt her. They had shared everything and become friends through adversity. There shouldn’t be secrets between them.

She reached the guest room and turned the knob. It was locked. Then she heard Lenore’s voice behind the door. Her words weren’t clear but the sudden sounds of excited pleasure the girl made were unmistakable.

Joey sank down against the door. Her body felt numb. She sat there as the sun rose but it couldn’t warm the ice in her veins.


	13. Lessons

“Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”  
– Benjamin Franklin

**************************************************************************************

Lenore toyed with tendrils of Kirsty’s hair, listening to her breathe as she slept. She didn’t want to get up and return to the couch.

_Why does it matter if Joey knows? Can’t I have pleasure if I want it?_

She tried to relax again, but something tugged at her memory and the feeling that there was more to experience persisted. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and licked them slowly. A strange sensation ran through her, making her body shiver.

_What is it? What’s missing?_

Tears filled her eyes. Her dreams were full of images she didn’t understand. Kirsty would listen but always refused to explain them, and Lenore felt she knew more than she was saying.

As quietly as she could, she got out of the bed and pulled her nightgown back on. Crossing the room, Lenore saw the cardboard box full of documents sitting on the floor by the closet. It had been on the coffee table outside, until she gave up this bedroom to Kirsty.

 _Is the photo in it?_ She knelt beside the box and picked up some of the papers. Joey had the picture of her father upstairs, but she wanted to see the other one. _There._

Lenore picked it up. It was lying on a sketch of an intricately decorated square object. Looking from one to the other, she froze. There was a pattern to the black clothes worn by the strange being in the photo, though it was hard to make it out clearly. Her other hand reached out to stroke the patterns of the sketch. Memory trembled, and without knowing why, she knew they were the same.

~ ~ ~

“Joey had to show up at work this morning,” Kirsty said as she closed the bedroom door behind them and locked it.

Lenore let her strip off the nightgown and allowed her to lay her down. The pleasure she gave felt good, but it wasn’t enough anymore.

Kirsty moved to her side and kissed her. “Something wrong?”

“I want to know about my dreams.” When Kirsty tried to look away, Lenore caught her chin and stared into her eyes. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Some dreams can hurt you.” Kirsty kissed her again, her hands stroking her. “Forget them and be with me.”

“Tell me about the Favored Son.”

“The less you know about him the better.”

“I want to know more, to experience more.”

Kirsty sighed. “Do you want to live? You could have a lot here. Go looking for him and you’ll get us all killed. I’m a better bedmate, trust me. His idea of pleasure is gut-wrenching pain.”

Lenore frowned. She got up and put her nightgown on. “I’m hungry.”

Kirsty frowned and got up. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were raised a princess.” She left the room without looking back.

Lenore heard her opening cabinets in the kitchen. She went to the document box and put it on the bed. Setting the photo and the sketch aside, she quickly went through the rest of its contents.

When Kirsty returned with a breakfast tray, Lenore didn’t try to hide what she was doing. Putting her father’s letter back with the papers, she picked up the photo again. The sketch of the patterned square, called a puzzle box and the ‘Lament Configuration’ over and over in the documents, was still on her lap. She studied the face of the being she knew was called the Favored Son, trying to force her fragmented memories to tell her who he was.

“You called him a Cenobite, from the Labyrinth, or Hell. I don’t understand why you won’t tell me anything. This puzzle box is in my dreams – so is he.” She looked up at Kirsty. “You talk with Joey about it. You’re both afraid of him. Why?”

“His kind destroyed my life. He tried to kill Joey.” She set the tray down and glared at her. “He would kill us if he found us.”

“In my dreams, he tells me to find a puzzle box. He says it will make me remember ... and he told me you have one.”

~ ~ ~

Joey and Kirsty were arguing in the living room. Lenore opened the door a crack and saw Joey pointing angrily at the documents box that Kirsty had returned to the coffee table.

“That’s how she figured it out,” Joey said. “It’s all there. Why didn’t you tell me you brought one with you?”

“It isn’t to use. It’s insurance.”

“I thought you were destroying them. Damn it, Kirsty – what the hell are you doing with her?”

“You said Elliott wants her to have a human life. I’m teaching her to want one.”

“In this reality, it’s called statutory rape.”

Kirsty laughed. “The only crime that scares you is libel. Besides, what court of law is going to believe she’s five years old? She can live with me and I’ll keep her safe. What’s the harm? You’d rather hand her a puzzle box and battle demons?”

“I only wanted to get the tattoo information back to Jack Merchant’s family. It could make the Elysium machine work someday. If it’s meant to defeat the Cenobites, I’m behind it a hundred percent.”

“We could ask Louis,” Kirsty replied, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me the Cenobite was after you?”

“I did.”

“You never mentioned having chats with him in your dreams.”

“I’ve been playing keep away several years longer than you. I’m the last person who is going to mess with this crap. You haven’t got a thing to fear from me.”

“Elliott said the demon wants you. He said you were in danger.”

“I’ve been in danger since I was eighteen. Longer, if you count visits from Uncle Frank.”

“Please be honest with me. Why does he want you?”

Kirsty sighed and sank into the couch. “I’m probably earmarked for a post on Hell’s sales team. I’ve ‘won the suit of the Prince of Hell’. That’s a quote.”

“And it didn’t seem important enough to mention?”

Kirsty lowered her voice and Lenore strained to hear her words. A sick feeling twisted her guts. In her dreams, he had called to her – told her to come home to him. The pleasure he had given her had taken her breath away – shorter and sharper than what she shared with Kirsty. She wanted more.

Turning from the door, Lenore shut it softly. For a moment she stood still, looking around the room.

_Where is it?_

She opened the closet and pulled out Kirsty’s suitcase. Half an hour later, the bedroom was in shambles and she had found nothing.

_Does she keep it with her? The coat!_

Lenore crawled quickly from her search under the bed to the coat that hung off of the back of a chair, but its pockets were empty. Slumping in defeat, she fought back tears.

~ ~ ~

Dinner was a silent ordeal until the phone rang. Joey went to answer it. Lenore got up from the table and wandered to the couch. Kirsty had been out that afternoon without saying why or where she’d gone. She’d asked Lenore to straighten the room without commenting on why it was torn apart.

Reaching for the television remote, her eyes rested on Kirsty’s purse. It sat in a chair across the living room from her. She flinched when Kirsty sat beside her.

“It’s not in there,” the woman said.

Lenore stared back at her. “I read that journal. There’s a lot of them.”

“I know you heard us this morning.” She reached to stroke Lenore’s golden curls. “Elliott wants us to help you find a life here. I’d like to do that, if you’ll let me.”

“But you won’t tell me the truth.”

“I haven’t lied to you, either.”

“I want more.”

“Show me what you want.”

Lenore covered one of her breasts with Kirsty’s hand, holding it there as she kissed her. Breaking the kiss, she moved her lips over her ear and whispered, “Give me pain.”

Kirsty recoiled, moving away from her. “No.”

Joey approached. “I don’t mean to interrupt your felonious pursuits, but that was Tom Ramsay on the phone. He wants to meet me. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Should I come with?” Kirsty asked. Lenore kept her eyes on her.

“Not the best plan, leaving her alone. In the interest of our new agreement to be honest with each other, I’ll tell you what he had to say when I get back.” Joey headed out the door without another word.

Kirsty turned back to Lenore slowly. “Lovers shouldn’t hurt each other.”

“There’s a lot of those, too,” she replied, and left her.

~ ~ ~

The covers had been torn to the floor an hour ago and both of them were bathed with sweat. Lenore’s teeth bit down on Kirsty’s nipple again, making the woman’s back arch as she moaned.

Working wet fingers inside her, she would withdraw again and again to ply her fingernails against the delicate slick skin in vicious pinches.

Kirsty had been shocked to discover the pleasure of pain, and leading her into it had made Lenore feel closer to her. Receiving it was exquisite, too – yet nothing they did matched what she’d felt in her dream of the Cenobite.

When they heard Joey return, they were lying panting in each other’s arms. Kirsty kissed her forehead and got up. Pulling on her bathrobe, she avoided Lenore’s gaze and went out to speak to the other woman.

Lenore turned onto her back and closed her eyes. “Who are you?” she whispered. “Please help me. I can’t find the puzzle box.” Trying to relax, she forced her breathing to be even. She held her fingers to her mouth and drifted into sleep muttering the words ‘favored son’ against her fingertips.

Images bloomed in her mind. A flash of metal in water – the box, not twelve feet away from her. With a shock, she woke.

Voices in the kitchen spoke softly when she opened the bedroom door. Both women looked up at her and a slight blush colored Kirsty’s face. Lenore smiled at them and went down the hall, her hands knotting in her nightgown.

Locking the door of the small room behind her, she placed a knee on the lowered lid and lifted the heavy porcelain cover of the tank. Shimmering at the bottom was a yellow glint. She set the cover over the sink and reached inside the tank. Her fingers closed on the plastic bag that held the hard intricate surface of the box and lifted it out.

She tore open the bag and grasped the object, discarding the plastic on the floor.

Dripping water soaked her lap as she turned and sat on the lid, stroking the glistening thing in her hands.

In the distance, she could still hear the women talking, but another voice spoke almost at her ear. Lenore twitched and glanced around; she was alone. The voice, distinctly male, low and full of majesty, was speaking in her mind.

_You are beginning this journey._ _If you serve me, you will stand at my side through eternity._

The touch of his flesh, ethereal white and cold, made her shudder, but it wasn’t him she touched – it was the box. Had she pledged something to him?

_Flesh and soul you must keep, for now._

Kirsty had said the Cenobites only killed – but this being reminded her of a priest. The pleasure and the pain rose in her memory, enticing her and frustrating her at once.

_Think on these initiations. Seek to understand their mystery._

_What had the initiations been?_ “Please help me understand,” she begged him. Her thumb stroked across the center circle of one of two matched sides. It depressed slightly, like a button. She sucked on her index finger out of habit and felt the soft electric shock again. _What was it?_

_You have tasted my blood. I will always be with you._

Tears rose to her eyes. She’d been alone – but he seemed wise, even kind. Why did the women fear him?

_In the moment that I claim your soul, you will know your true name – and all of Chaos will tremble._

“Chaos. Kirsty calls this world that, but he is a lord of the Labyrinth. The Prince of Hell… Why can’t I remember?”

_Do not fear the veil that will cover your memory – seek the patterns of the Lament Configuration and you will know again who you are, and who awaits your return._

“Favored Son, help me. I want to know you, and myself.” She held the box tightly in her hands, caressing it over all six sides. Her eyes were closed in prayer. “Show me.”

As she fell silent, a black light began to glow from the box. She knew it was only a vision in her mind, but she watched it eagerly. It enveloped her body, and inside it, she saw a thousand flashes of memory at once.

The Cenobite carried her out of fear. His hands on her neck, the gift of pleasure, his lips on her flesh, the gift of pain. Her vow to serve him, and the Labyrinth ... the voice of Leviathan. The thing called the Schism, and then – nothing. A horrifying loss descended as his name left her at the gate of Chaos, her birth world ... and the enemy of her lord.

“Lenore, no!”

The box was struck from her fingers to clatter across the tiles. When she reached for it reflexively, she felt a blow against the side of her head. It knocked her to the cold floor. She lay there dazed, but not from the attack. The shuffling images in her mind prevented her from feeling the pain. A small stab of regret for that washed over her.

“What are you doing, damn it!”

 _He said he wanted me to return_ _,_ she confided to the tiles. Her vision swam as she was hauled up to sit leaning against the wall.

The images hadn’t stopped and abruptly he was before her in her mind, the eternal smile of benevolent guidance on his lips, and she was bathed in the dark blessing of the Black Pope of Hell. Weakened and stunned by the glory of it, she slipped back down to the floor.

Dust motes shined like diamonds, her lashes were branches on a sill. She knew hands tugged at her but she couldn’t feel them. He was calling to her, bidding her to come.

“I obey, Vasa Iniquitatis,” she whispered. As she succumbed to the pull of the visions, her eyes slowly closed.


	14. Windows of the Mind

“We cannot be more sensitive to pleasure without being more sensitive to pain.”  
– Alan Watts

**************************************************************************************

Lenore lay on the couch like a catatonic, staring at the ceiling – but Kirsty knew she was seeing something very different through her unblinking eyes. Feeling sick, she watched Joey inspecting the bathroom door. The lock Kirsty had broken would have to be replaced.

“How did you know she’d found it?” the reporter asked.

“Call it instincts.” _The cold triumphant laughter in my head, what else?_ “I can practically smell a box being opened by now.”

“It wasn’t, thank God.”

“And why is that? It doesn’t take much to open them. At least it never did for me and she’s got insider help. He must have had a reason for not dropping in on us tonight.”

“What did she say again? It sounded like a name.”

“Vasa Iniquitatis.”

“Latin. I’ll look it up.” Joey went to the kitchen table and opened her laptop.

Kirsty sat on the coffee table and brushed golden strands of hair out of Lenore’s face. “You’re not tempted to map Hell for a Pulitzer?”

“You know no one believes it – except charmers like Channard. White straps don’t go with my complexion. My motives are pure revenge: for Terri, Doc ... and Elliott, too.”

 _Motives? Survival._ Kirsty thought of his pronouncement, that she had won his suit. Repressing a shudder, she tried to avoid thinking at all.

“Here it is – ‘Vessel of Iniquity’, or basically, vessel of sin ... immoral vessel? Pick one. That’s not a name. It sounds like a title.”

“Or a compliment.” Kirsty sighed. “Evil rarely sees itself as evil, so ‘vessel of sin’ makes no sense. They don’t think what they do is wrong, and they aren’t ... tormented with guilt over it.” Avoiding Joey’s stare, Kirsty looked back down at Lenore. “I bet she knows his name. The Prince of Hell…” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “So you’ll meet Tom again?”

“Yes, we’re going to try to see what’s up with the tattoo and the original drawing. I need to speak to Bobbi, too. I’m hoping she can remember something useful John Merchant might have said about his device.”

Kirsty looked up at her. “Are you going to try to break it to them? I don’t recommend it.”

“Bobbi might be able to grasp it – she saw them herself. Tom won’t want to know. He thinks he does – but the truth of what happened to Renée might be more than he could take.”

~ ~ ~

The edge of the coffee table bit into her back across her shoulder blades. Kirsty didn’t notice it as the dream unfolded, washing her caution away with a strange, unnatural pleasure. Yet her fear was with her, pacing beside her as she explored new paths.

Straps bound her; they were stiff and slick – with sweat or blood? She was blind under the face shield that had descended over her head. Memories of gynecological exams intruded, though nothing had touched her naked sex between her raised and spread knees.

Someone had put her in this hellish contraption – someone she trusted – but it was only a vague impression. The dream had begun with this dark bondage, with nothing but chilled air and fear between her legs. What had he said before she laid her body down?

_To understand control, you must know submission. Did you not realize it is the slave who is truly in command of the game? It is all connected – the one who dominates longing to obey, the obedient controlling the pace, and the content, of what is shared._

She was at the mercy of anyone, or anything, that entered the room. _Where am I?_

Deprived of sight and movement, her other senses sharpened. Had someone passed through the doorway? Imagination tortured her. Again and again she twitched, tricked by her mind that something had brushed against her soft shaved flesh.

Yet slowly, her perception began to change, becoming alien but arresting – and she realized she ached for something to happen. Did helpless equal guiltless? Whatever happened, she was powerless to stop it.

_There is a curious freedom in bondage. A peculiar dichotomy, is it not? The tighter the straps, the greater the release – to experience anything, without guilt, yes._

_Who are you?_

_You know the answer._

There was a subtle movement of air against her skin, but the near complete sensory deprivation had gone on too long to identify her companion for certain. Even the voice in her mind seemed slightly distorted, as if it rang like a deep bell. The vibrations of it increased her heart rate.

_So hungry for sensation – such a needful thing, incomplete ... unfinished._

In the instant that the tolling of the dark bell ceased, the terror of where dreams had led her lanced in to shatter her unnatural calm.

_You are ... a Cenobite. Any one of them or ... him?_

_An interesting distinction. I would never allow another to instruct you._

Kirsty wanted to scream for Elliott. She had searched for him and found ... this. _You weren’t here before – I wouldn’t have allowed…_

_Yet with grace and trust you laid down your flesh, in payment of a debt incurred. Did you think his desires were commonplace?_

_Elliott was searching for a way to feel, to reclaim his humanity, not to feed a sick fetish – like Frank, or you._

_Such comfort you find in these pronouncements. Flesh ... does not care. Your flesh shudders to be violated and what a parade of suitors I could provide – all with different gifts ... and tastes ... for you to experience. Shall I invite them?_

_Wake up, you damn fool,_ she cursed. _This is no dream!_

_Do you fear injury, or pain? You witnessed the judgment on Frank and found it abhorrent, though the things he would have sought to subject your body to, had you known, might have made you ask us to do more to him._

_No! Elliott, please, come back..._

_Child, you know we are one. Which do you fear?_

_Pain ... because you can make it last._

_Yet you enjoyed it not so long ago, in the ministrations of my acolyte. Naïveté does not suit you. I can make the wound as eternal as the pain – this you know. All that is left is to teach you the true path of suffering._

_You’ve deceived people for ages but it’s pleasure they want – not pain, not mutilation!_

_Is it? Do you want human pleasure? Is that what your flesh hungers for? Shall we see?_

Fear constricted her heart. _Wake up, damn you, Wake up!_

Fingers, slender and cold, entered her body. The partial glove of the hand, covering the thumb and pinkie, settled on either side of her slick opening. Teeth clenched, she tried not to scream.

A warmth slid inside her, emanating from the trio of fingers – and then it bloomed into a pleasure so intense it burned her. Nerve-endings on fire, she found she couldn’t scream, as a need for it to continue and a frantic wish to make it stop warred in her.

When it did stop, her mind reeled. Panting, she felt numb. Where was the Cenobite? Did he still touch her? She couldn’t feel anything.

_Our pleasures sweep all others to nothing. You have already felt the old craving die, the wish for ‘normal’ couplings, and seek the forbidden to feel again. Are you surprised to find your purpose so nearly matches that of others who fell? Ask yourself why you seek out one you suspect to be under my sway. Is it not the threat that makes your blood sing?_

_Threat can be a game, too – but pain that kills can’t be pleasure._

_Ah, but if you cannot die…_

Kirsty did scream when he filled her flesh with pain. Yet as it fired her nerves to life again, her back arched, her limbs straining against the straps. She tried to open herself more, not caring if she injured herself to do it, writhing shamelessly in heat.

A sharp point pricked into the wet flesh of the inner wall of her sex. The pleasure of it drove her beyond the borders of her mind. Darkness waited there, a yawning pit that reeked of putrifying flesh and rang with the endless beat of a heart of ice and malice. The closer she drifted, the less her burden became.

 _What is it?_ she whispered, but then she knew that was not the right question. _Who are you?_

The sound of its voice was the clatter of bones thrown onto blighted stone but the words flowed broken, as if underwater.

Fingertips touched her lips and her tongue slipped out to taste them. They were copper and ash – and sweet as vanilla.

 _Yes, my lost one,_ the Cenobite intoned as if in prayer. _This soul is worthy. Why must you deny me for so long? Take this flesh, my dark angel, and come to me…_

Snapping awake – had she screamed out loud? Her eyes rose to the loft bedroom, but Joey did not appear. With a start, she realized Lenore’s eyes watched her. The girl had shed her clothes and waited while Kirsty dreamed. Gleaming and full of secrets, she offered herself.

With an urgency that bordered on madness, she mounted the girl’s body. They tore and sucked at each other until their strength was spent, but the chilling laughter still rang in Kirsty’s mind.

~ ~ ~

The morning sun warmed her as she sat looking out over the city, but her thoughts were numb. Lenore watched her from the other end of the couch, her eyes half-lidded – almost predatory.

For such a short time, she had been a sweet and soft thing of bemused innocence. Now, Kirsty was tempted to rename her to make the changes easier to bear.

They had showered separately, and she had wondered if the girl was as covered with welts, scratches, and bruises as she had been. Yet the most disturbing thing was the soreness between her legs.

 _Stupid bitch,_ she cursed herself. _Offer yourself to one and expect the other one to keep out of it? It’s a two-person ménage á trois, idiot._ She faced the silent stare of her ‘forbidden’ lover. “It can never be what I want it to between us – he made sure of that. You’re still a mystery, though, and you won’t tell me anything about it, will you? Least of all how to destroy him.”

“He can’t be destroyed.”

“Don’t believe everything he tells you.” Kirsty got up to escape the stare. She had heard Joey waking, and went into the kitchen before the other woman came downstairs. Making breakfast didn’t require thought.

Joey seemed to feel the tension in the room immediately, but Kirsty shook her head at her and they both waited to speak until Lenore had disappeared into the guest bedroom.

“Tell me again about your time dodging the Cenobite,” Kirsty asked. “We need to figure out his plans but we have to be missing something.”

“Well, I think that situation was created by Channard, technically. Setting the Cenobite loose on Earth, unbound by the rules of the puzzle box, he seemed to want to set up shop here and make a new Hell. That’ll be different now, if he’s playing by the Labyrinth’s rules again.”

“All we know about that is our own experiences and what Channard collected, but even the information from Lemarchand himself doesn’t tell us why the Labyrinth wants to bother with Earth.”

“Beyond the usual expansion, power-mongering, conquering nation approach? Elliott said the plan was to break barriers between the Labyrinth and Earth. I guess the Cenobite thinks he needs the Merchant heir for that.”

“Conquering nation sounds better than sexual philanthropist studies.”

Joey’s expression showed her struggle to be concerned and wary at once. “Did something happen?”

Kirsty looked away from the eyes that searched hers, desperate for assurances and the truth – but no one really wanted the truth, did they?

“He shows up in my dreams, I told you that.” She reached for her coffee cup. It was empty. “Don’t worry, I can fight him off. What are we going to do with Lenore?”

“I thought you had that covered,” Joey said, trying not to frown.

“Not for long. She’s a brand new puzzle now, convinced she’s supposed to learn about pleasure. I don’t think shacking up and monogamy are on the syllabus.”

“She could bring him here.”

“The box isn’t in the house anymore. We’ll watch her.”

“Maybe the Elysium Configuration could be activated with the improvements to the design. Tom said he’d bring anything Bobbi found for him on it. What if the Cenobites could be destroyed? Kirsty?”

The dark heart of her dream intruded, a plague that sickened her thoughts. It couldn’t be real – a foul abyss that seemed to feed off of her guilt, shame, and the horror of the blood on her hands – eating it, relieving the horrid burden of her soul.

Shaking her head, she smiled at Joey’s worried look and launched into the first distraction that came to mind.

“Do I detect an interest in this one or is it just curiosity?”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Sure you do. He’s handsome and strapping – seems to be a decent guy. Hell, who am I to judge? Have fun.”

“He’s also married.”

Joey tried to look irritated and dismissive, but Kirsty seemed to have hit a nerve. It had only been a lucky shot in the dark to deter questions about her dreams, yet the prospect perversely amused her.

“Mrs. Ramsay might drink herself to death before she can be tossed in a padded room. Either way, he’s probably lonely.” _Look at her – offended for his sake. God save me from an honest and fair reporter._

“I’d have thought you of all people could respect what she’s gone through.”

“Why should I? She’s weak. People like that aren’t going to help in your crusade against evil. She had one night dealing with that monster and never recovered.”

“She watched him kill her husband and drive her son insane! Then she lost both of her children. I admire her ability to keep going at all!”

“My therapist would tell you that’s guilt talking. You defend her because you feel bad about wanting to fuck her husband. This is war and survival of the fittest. I lost everything to those demons, and every one, over and over. You lost friends and had your life turned upside down. We’re strong – we keep living, keep fighting. That woman probably gave up before John Merchant’s head hit the floor.”

Joey rose from the table. “You can’t judge others that way. She has every right to our respect. To belittle what she went through – it’s wrong, and … cruel.”

Kirsty laughed. “Maybe I should be the one battling the Cenobites. You got paraded through a house of horrors and chased down a street. I admire your ability to rise above that, but don’t tell me I’m cruel for belittling some housewife’s trauma. When your pedophile uncle tries to rape you while wearing your father’s skin, you can talk to me about who is worthy of respect and who isn’t.”


	15. Humanity's Refrain

“If you look under the mask of deception everyone wears, you will find a different person. Take time to take off others’ masks. People aren’t what they pretend to be sometimes. I wish people would take that time with me, yet nobody has.”  
– Holly Russo

**************************************************************************************

“I don’t understand.” Tom ran his trembling fingers through his thick blonde hair. “I’m not sure I want to.”

Joey glanced around the restaurant. The busy place was oddly comforting – they were surrounded by people who were, she assumed, living normal lives. It also made her feel a twinge of guilt – for deciding to pull this man even further away from them.

She put down her glass and caught his gaze. “I’m only telling you the easily digestible parts, but it’s all true – everything Bobbi said she saw, and experienced – is real.”

“She’s not well. Could it be a kind of coping thing – burying the truth in these crazy fantasies?”

“A priest once tried to tell me that demons were metaphors. Then one walked into his church. He survived because I lured the Cenobite away with the puzzle box. If he isn’t institutionalized, he could tell you they’re not a fantasy – or you could ... believe my story. Kirsty has fought this – them – too. Bobbi isn’t crazy. She told you the truth.”

“These creatures took our children? Why?”

“I think Jack opened a puzzle box, that’s how you let them into the world. When you do that, they come and take you away to a place they call the Labyrinth. Kirsty and I think it might be a different dimension or something, but it’s not the biblical Hell. She was in it once. When the doors are open, you can go in, if – the Cenobites aren’t there to ... kill you.”

“Are you saying Jack and Renée are trapped in this place?”

“I’m … just saying it exists. There is so much we don’t know.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m leaving out a lot – but you’ll be happier for it. Maybe saner.”

Tom picked up his water and drank all of it. He had barely eaten. “I only need to know one thing – how do I get there to find them?”

“Not through the box – that would just get you killed, and we can’t risk Louis. I told you how important he is.”

“My adopted son, destined to grow up to be a monster fighter.” He shook his head and put too much cash on the table to cover the bill.

“Let’s just make sure he has the opportunity to grow up.”

With a wince, he rose and offered her his hand. “I got us permission to see the atrium in Merchant’s building ... and I need something constructive to do before I put my fist through a wall.”

She took his hand and stood, and then embraced him impulsively for a moment. It was meant to be a comfort, but she wasn’t prepared for the feelings it dredged up. He pulled her closer against his body, his strength a shock.

People stared or smiled around them in the restaurant. He released her quickly and whispered an apology. Feeling the flush in her face, Joey murmured that it was all right and followed him out to his car.

“You still want to do this?”

“Of course.”

He pulled into the street like a cabbie but then settled into the rhythm of traffic with a sigh.

Joey had to abandon every attempt to speak and ended up watching the buildings grow taller as they drove down into the Financial District.

Tom tightened his fingers on the wheel. “I’m really sorry about that – I don’t do that.”

“You’ve been under a horrible strain for over a year now. It’s okay.”

“More than a year. It started six years ago for me. When I married Bobbi, she was on an anti-depressant, and her drinking – I had no idea what a problem it was. It took her a long time to explain about Jack, why he wasn’t well. We already had Renée then. I thought the baby would help her focus ... on the future.”

Joey turned in the seat to face him. “It got worse?”

“She became paranoid about both children and developed anxiety disorders. Her drinking got out of control. I wondered if her behavior helped push Jack over the edge. We had to have him committed.”

“I’m sorry. What he saw, at his age – it would have been awful.”

“When he came home and ended up fathering a child at fourteen, I knew he couldn’t be responsible for a baby. The mother was going to abort, and I can’t say I was against it – she was only fifteen – but Bobbi went wild. She paid the girl to have the baby and let us keep it. I agreed on the condition that we’d raise him as a brother to Renée. I know, it wasn’t legal, but I ... just let her do it.”

“No lectures from me – Louis is a very important little boy.”

“Bobbi wouldn’t quit driving us all mad. She wouldn’t let the nurse care for the baby, and she’d throw fits about someone harming the children.”

“That’s terrible ... but I can understand how she must have felt.”

“Can you?” He parked the car illegally at their destination and faced her. “Sometimes I was tempted to just take Renée and Louis and leave her and Jack to their fantasy world. Now … Louis is all she has. She’s crazy, but I know she wouldn’t hurt that baby.”

“I know it’s hard to believe a reporter with a tale like mine…”

“No, I have to believe you. You all seem sane and decent, and if you saw these monsters too, it must be true. It’s almost nuts enough to go full circle until it makes sense.”

As they got out of the car, Joey stared up at the skyscraper decorated inside and out with Lament Configuration motifs. She had never been able to enter the building before, but a cop had just given him a key because he had wanted one.

Absently, she asked, “Won’t you get towed?”

“Cops like me. I’d have to obey traffic laws in New Jersey, but I’m practically a mascot to the NYPD.”

~ ~ ~

The atrium was empty. The panels of the Elysium Configuration on the walls and sides of massive square columns were shattered and covered with dust. No computer or control panel was present.

“A friend of mine on the force told me they added this room to the local ghost tours, so the building management lets it stay in vintage unsolved murder condition.”

“Macabre.” Joey reached up to touch the edge of a panel. “He used the lights to make it work?”

“Yeah. Bobbi has the program he was developing on the computer at the house. She wouldn’t let me take it out to show you, even on a disk, but I’ve looked it over before. Every bit of it goes over my head but his notes are plain enough – the light would work for a few seconds, and then quit.”

“What was it supposed to do if it stayed on?”

“Not sure. Trap monsters and destroy them, I guess. He couldn’t get enough power into it, even diverting most of this building’s resources.”

“So the tattoo could be Jack’s improvements on the power source, or a way to maintain it longer.”

“Joey, this tattoo – if Jack made it… Bobbi asked me if this girl could be from the place, this Labyrinth. If she knows it, maybe she can get into it.”

“With or without Cenobites, it’s not a safe place to be.”

“I understand, but if I could get there, I could look for Renée.”

Walking back to him, she touched his shoulder. “Tom…”

He bowed his head. “You think she’s dead, I know. So do the police – but I can’t give up. Will you let me talk to her?”

She embraced him again, laying her head on his shoulder. “Yes, but it may not help. You can’t use a puzzle box – if they come through they’ll kill us, and Louis.”

“I won’t put him at risk.”

“You can’t – he’s the most important person in this mess.”

“I have to try to find her.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” She looked back once and shuddered. _The Cenobite was here. He was sent back by Bobbi the same way I did it, manipulating the box again to banish him. Is that why Kirsty called it insurance? The woman that he took with him ... who had she been? Bobbi had called her evil and said she seemed to be after the same thing as the demon, but not with him. She was probably a Cenobite. If not then, she might be now._

For a moment, the dark fabric of the mystery beckoned, luring her to sort it all out. ‘Mapping Hell’, Kirsty had called it. The old draw of the story of a lifetime, bringing with it fame and success, sparkled in her thoughts.

Then a frown settled over her features. If she was stuck covering kindergarten kids and the homeless for the rest of her life, she’d take it and smile. It might lack glory, but it meant living.

As she caught up with Thomas Ramsay and felt his hand clasp hers, a new lure settled in her mind – but did the line end in a shining hook?

~ ~ ~

Joey paced in her kitchen, trying not to overhear the quiet and halting conversation between Tom and Lenore in the living room. She switched the plan for whiskey sours to martinis just to have a reason to stay away longer. Reaching for the steel cocktail shaker, she heard Tom’s voice rise slightly.

“I can prove it to you,” Lenore was saying, her tone sweet and edged at once. “Flesh doesn’t lie.”

The door opened and Kirsty walked in. She veered toward the kitchen, but a glance into the other room turned her fast.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kirsty yelled out, anger and disbelief making her voice sharp.

Joey was right behind her and saw Tom grabbing Lenore’s wrist. Horrified, she realized a beat later what the girl had done. Afraid Kirsty would be angry at Tom, she headed into the fray, but it was clear a moment later that Kirsty had seen the girl do it.

“We have social customs here. You don’t behave like that around people unless you’ve just paid them a lot of money.” She took Lenore by the shoulders and moved her away from the man bodily as he released her arm. “Come on, before you end up slapped or punched out. I’ll show you a bit of the city and get your mind off that shit.” Leading her away, she added to Tom, “Sorry about that.”

Joey was left beside the stunned man as Kirsty hauled Lenore out of the condo, grabbing their coats as she went.

“I’m so sorry,” Joey muttered. “Lenore wasn’t – she didn’t realize.” She led him to the kitchen and placed a martini in his hand.

Tom sat on one of the bar stools and stared at the drink. “That had to be a lie.”

“That was sexual harassment, not a lie. We appreciate the restraint, believe me. Most men I know would have either slapped her or gotten a hotel.”

“She said she was… She claims to be my daughter.” His hand shook slightly as he set the drink on the counter.”

 _Oh, God._ “Tom –”

“Is it true?” He pinned her with a fierce stare. His eyes showed fear and horror, as his hands curled into fists. “Just another bit of madness that fits in so neatly with the rest? My God, Joey – how can it be true!”

“We don’t know.” When she looked away, she felt tears rise in her eyes.

Tom slipped off of the stool and stood behind her. “But it is true.”

“Yes, we think so.” The first tears slipped down her cheeks as his big hands grasped her arms.

“How? I don’t understand… She’s – and she said that, and then grabbed me that way. What the hell is going on?”

“Hell is exactly what is going on.” Joey turned to face him. “A British Army captain told me that a few years back – a ghost in a World War I uniform with advice on how to beat the demon. Do you want the whole story? Or ... what we know of it?”

“You see ghosts and demons? Is everyone insane?”

“Captain Spenser came to me in a dream. He helped me – and it gets crazier from there. Lenore – Renée – calls Elliott Spenser her father because he raised her in the Labyrinth. How is as vague as why. I don’t know how she knew what she is to you – or why she told you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was trying to spare you pain.”

“Why did she grab me? This dead captain had funny ideas about a father-daughter relationship?”

“No!” Hesitant, wanting to comfort, she touched his chest as his hands closed on her arms again. “He was like her father, but he’s bound to the Cenobite. They’re different, but the same. The Cenobite was teaching her things. We think she was being taught to think like him. They are a perverse group –”

“This can’t be real. It’s a nightmare!” His hands tightened.

“You’re hurting –”

He released her and backed away. “I have to go. I have to think…”

“Tom please, don’t. You’re upset, and if you drive home and something happens to you I’ll never forgive myself.”

She didn’t question the strange fear that if he left now he would die. Her hands slipped up his chest and touched his face. The heat of his anger choked in strangled tears. In the next moment, she had pressed her lips to his. It was an insane kiss, but he responded instantly, with an urgent hunger fired by fear and pain.

He almost pulled her down to the floor, but she led him up the stairs instead. Falling into her bed, she heard cloth rip as he tore the buttons on her shirt. Minute clatters filled her ears in the silence as they hit the walls and the floor.

The heavy wool skirt was bunched at her waist. She stripped off her hose and panties as he fumbled with his belt and pants.

His weight pressed her down, the hard cock finding her ready. She buried her fingers in his hair and kissed the golden waves as he took her with a ferocity that left her breathless.

_Was that a sound? The door?_

Her home was quiet. Her eyes swept back and landed on the photograph on the nightstand. Elliott gave her his slight secret smile from behind the glass of the new frame.


	16. The Further Reaches of Experience

“Hell has three gates: lust, anger, and greed.”  
– Bhagavad Gita

**************************************************************************************

She had sought out the one she desired, despite the danger. He remained at a distance, allowing the shade to impart secrets.

 _It was called the Time of Configuration, and they were the chosen of Leviathan, the Vasa Iniquitatis. It was their duty to each guide a human being at the crossroads of Chaos and Order, helping them to choose Order,_ the shade called Elliott explained.

 _The way she said it, she meant him specifically._ Kirsty paused, staring at the captain with a dawning suspicion. _You. You’re here._

_We are one, no matter how you persist in believing otherwise._

He manifested through the image of the Englishman, leaving him standing frozen beside her.

_I came here to find Elliott._

_In him, you have found me._

_There are things I have to know, and there is no reason for you to tell me the truth._

_I have no stake or reward to gain in lies. I will refrain from indulging in my desires if you will speak with me – but I will only make such an offer once._

He watched her struggle with the choice, knowing she could not resist.

_Why did Lenore call you that title if it’s a name for a group of you?_

_The Daughter of Hell is susceptible to human notions of romantic pageantry. She probably heard the tales from Angelique and bequeathed the title solely to me in her fervor and devotion._

_Vasa_ _Iniquitatis – vessel of sin? What does that mean? You don’t believe that you commit sins._

_I am not without blemish, having committed the sin of remembrance. This husk, the vessel I am bonded to – is a creature of Chaos, of sin. It was a desire to spare you from the blades of the Surgeon that led to my sin._

_Elliott’s body – is the vessel... He defied you to save me. You weren’t thrown out for that? How did you end up in the pillar?_

_That was my sin and the penance for it. The Black Diamond used the Surgeon for that purpose before he was judged._

_Yet here you are._

_Mercy is lain upon the loyal servant who again humbles himself to serve._

_Lenore’s right. You do sound like a priest._

Xipe Totec smiled. _I am Hell’s Pontifex._

_And the Favored Son. Favored by?_

_Leviathan, Lord of the Labyrinth._

_Leviathan…_ Kirsty shivered. _That is the thing I saw with Tiffany. It made me aware of a lot in me I didn’t want to know. I only want to live, have human pleasures, and love._

_Human pleasure, a paltry transaction of oiled frictions. Chaos seeks to promise much, but its gifts fade to wasted lies all too quickly. Are your hungers so limited? When I can offer so much more?_

He changed the drifting formless quality of her dream and gave it dimension and structure, forming it into the confines of a gray stone tunnel – featureless and eternal.

Kirsty shrank away from him, her fear a sweet perfume. _You bastard – take me back to Elliott._

_You desired answers and they are here. Walk with me._

_I don’t trust you – I can’t._

_Have you not desired to know what we are, what this place is, and why we trouble your kind?_

_Tempt Joey with that, not me. All I want is to be left in peace._

_Look around you, Kirsty. The perfection of Order. It is untouched here, unsullied._

He walked on, moving them through the Labyrinth to the areas where Chaos had invaded.

_Here, the infestation begins. It leaks through from your world, unraveling and destroying. Ages ago, Leviathan beat back this enemy, but it continued to encroach all around, necessitating the war that has been waged ever since. I and my brothers and sisters of the Order of the Gash were bonded to human souls to gain an understanding of how to defeat them. Even so, we walked these halls long before your kind began the conflict, in other forms, filled with the sole desire to serve our god._

_You want to destroy me because of something some protozoa did at the dawn of time? I had nothing to do with this war._

_Ah, child … it has never been my wish to destroy you but to help you to ascend to a high place of power, serving Leviathan at my side, as you were meant to do._

_I wasn’t ‘meant’ to do anything and I don’t want to be what you are. I want –_

_Love and pleasure … and control. With someone who cannot betray you. No man or woman can give you that. They are fallible, imperfect and weak. Yet you are suited to this work – the art of your earlier gifts to me has proven that. Come and see._

The chamber before them had appeared from the blank wall of the tunnel, its iron doors opening at a gesture of his hand.

_What is it?_

_Your canvas – the artistry of your hate. It is exquisite work._

Guiding her in, he watched her as she faced the thing that her will had made. She looked up at it and stumbled back into him with a strangled cry. He laid his hands on her shoulders, his voice at her ear.

_The husband is not the central figure as I might have expected. Yet he links the others, forming an inter-woven pattern of their collective sin – the cold disregard of the artist._

Kirsty’s whisper was a broken thing. _Trevor… My God, I – I can’t have…_

The eyes opened, blinked, and saw her. Others around him, sensing his awareness, began to move. The five mouths worked, but only the one called Trevor could speak. Its rictus smile stretched in joy to behold her.

_Kirsty… You’ve come._

She began to scream and seemed unable to stop.

~ ~ ~

Elliott held her by her shoulders and shook her gently. _Kirsty! You’re safe!_

She fell silent and looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. _Elliott? No. You aren’t you, you can’t be – he called you a ... husk._

 _Don’t be afraid, I would never hurt you. Kirsty, you must wake and leave this place. He didn’t lie – I am bound to him. You cannot seek me out without putting yourself under his power._ He brushed her hair from her face gently. _Joey wanted me to warn you, but you already know the risks. You must stay away._

He tried to make his kiss on her forehead a chaste thing, but desire licked at his soul, hungry for the matching heat he felt in hers.

_Isn’t there a way to free you? We could try –_

_No. I must stay. My sacrifice keeps him lashed to the commandments of Hell._

_Another vessel, a replacement…_

_Oh, Kirsty, how he has changed you... No._ He touched her cheek, regret shining in his eyes. _Even if it was possible, and my freedom wasn’t bought at such a price, how could I return? There is no seed left in the world to allow it; it all turned to dust long ago._

Her hands rose to his face. _Elliott … I could almost believe. I wanted to ask you – did you come to me before?_

_I have tried many times. I shouldn’t have, as it put you at risk ... and now has let him in._

_I used to dream of you, of talking to you, but never remembered anything afterward. I’ve wanted to thank you for my life, for saving Tiffany and I from Channard._

_If only that same act hadn’t put you in his debt. He will never release you from it – and there is so little I can do._

_I don’t know why I fight so hard anymore. I want to live, but my life is barely worth it. Sometimes I think I only fight because the struggle keeps me going in some twisted way. I can’t love without the fear of betrayal, and I am … changing. It terrifies me._

_You should go. This isn’t wise._

_Elliott, I do believe it’s you. Can’t we take this moment and be together?_

_It would only strengthen his influence over you. The fearsome being he waits for, the one he hopes to use you to regain, is a creature of devastating evil. If she were again at his side, his ambition would know no limits._

_So we must deny ourselves for some greater good?_ She leaned close, her lips whispering over his. _I want you, I want to be anything you need – and I want to make you need me just as intensely._

_I do. From the moment you freed me, helped me remember myself, I have wanted you – but it would destroy you._

She pressed her body against his, her fingers sliding up his back. _I’m already damned. What he showed me – I can’t bear it ... but even the horror of seeing that, knowing what I’ve done, hasn’t stopped my need for you. If Hell is the only place I can have this, maybe that is what’s meant._

_Kirsty, no. It can’t come to that._

_Elliott, please … just for a little while…_

He didn’t pull away when she kissed him. Hating the being that shared his soul and would use this against her, against them both, didn’t allow him to refuse her.


	17. Blood Ties

“Each day of human life contains joy and anger, pain and pleasure, darkness and light, growth and decay. Each moment is etched with nature’s grand design – do not try to deny or oppose the cosmic order of things.”  
– Morihei Ueshiba

**************************************************************************************

She felt his presence in her mind and turned, arms opening in welcome – but it was not her lord. Surprised, she ran to embrace her father.

_Lenore, at last._

_Father! I’ve missed you._

He held her close, and she listened to his heartbeat. It was an old comfort she no longer needed, but Lenore found she wanted it desperately. She covered his heart with her palm, imagining that she could feel its rhythm through his uniform.

_You finally found me – and I haven’t forgotten my promise. I met the human who sired this flesh. I will seek out the others soon._

_Lenore, no. Leave them in peace. I was wrong to try and reunite you. They won’t understand the changes you’ve been subjected to, and the knowledge of your heritage alone could bring harm to them._

_I already told the male I was made of his flesh. If I’m not to seek them out, what would you have me do?_

_Desire a life of your own, and find love._

_I have love – but I was sent to learn many things._

_There is something I must tell you, and I need your help. It will further your lessons, too._

_What is it?_

_Kirsty. She is balancing on a knife edge. Help me save her, and you will save yourself, too._

_I understand you are not in agreement with the Favored Son, father, and it grieves me – but I don’t need to be saved from him. I am his._

_He will take you as one of his legion perhaps, but you aren’t the one he will raise up to share in his power. He wants Kirsty for that._

Lenore pulled back away from him. _No. She can’t – she rejects him and all of the teachings._

 _Do you think he wouldn’t take her, willing or not? I felt something in her – a wish to redeem you and with you, herself. It was the only hope I found._ He touched her shoulder. _You must trust me. What you want to become, it is not as he has led you to believe. Turn back, find all the delights the world can give you. It’s not too late for either of you._

Lenore picked up his hand and kissed the knuckles. _Father, I knew this day would come. There is a choice before me, the same choice that has waited all my life, though I never understood it fully until now. I must follow one of you, and keep only those commandments, live only that belief._

 _Don’t do this. You can defy him. He knows it, and so I do._ When she didn’t answer, his eyes darkened with pain. _If you won’t do as I ask, and you must serve him, you can still help Kirsty. If she falls, it will be to take the place you covet. She must live, and want life again._

She reached out and held him close. Expecting tears, she felt none threaten, and a tiny joy was born. Human emotion was losing its hold on her, as her lord had promised it would when she claimed her destiny. The knowledge softened all regrets.

_I love you, father, forever. I will help her if I can, if she will allow it._

Lenore woke and sat up as a small frown curled her mouth. Her eyes narrowed.

“I will not allow Kirsty to steal my place.”

She left the couch to stand naked before the windows. It was still dark, but morning would come soon. Her fingers touched the chilled glass.

“I choose,” she whispered, “and I will follow my lord’s wishes – in all respects but one.”

Lenore dressed warmly in clothing that Kirsty had said was alluring. Every piece of cloth was put on with reverence, as a priestess would dress for the consummation of sacred rites.

Pulling her long coat on last, she paused to listen. Kirsty’s room was quiet, and Joey didn’t stir upstairs. Silent as a ghost, she left them.

~ ~ ~

The city was as much a maze as the Labyrinth but without the pristine perfection of Order. She didn’t fear it now, as she had when they had brought her here. It was Chaos, her enemy, but she was not helpless and she knew her path. The Dark Pontiff of Pain had shown her what she must do.

As the sky began to lighten, she found them: males, boys – some barely her age, some older. They loitered around a lamp post, smoking cigarettes and posturing for the passing cars. Their uniform was ratty denim, t-shirts and plaid work shirts, tennis shoes and heavy boots. They shivered in thin jackets. She watched them from across the street until they noticed her stare.

“Hey, Goldilocks, lose your bears?”

Crossing the street, she walked into the midst of them, unconcerned as they gathered around. “I want two of you. You,” she pointed to the youngest and most beautiful, “and you,” she added, indicating one of the older males.

“Sure, sweetheart,” the older boy said, grinning, “but you look a little young for our prices – and Stevie here, he never goes with girls.”

Lenore reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the roll of bills Kirsty had given her for shopping, or if she got lost in the city.

“I have enough. Where do you go?”

“Not the Ritz, babe. Our own home sweet home isn’t gonna be –”

“It will be fine, if it is private.”

~ ~ ~

After she dressed, Lenore sat in the armchair again to watch them. Mark was half asleep, draped over the younger Stevie. That one stared back at her around his friend’s shoulder. He hadn’t wanted to touch her, so Mark had done it, and then she paid them to be with each other as she lay near them.

It was instructive, but hollow, and the pleasure given was weak. They had seemed to take greater enjoyment in each other, but she wondered if they would find it paled in comparison to the gifts of the Cenobite. Without a Lament Configuration, she couldn’t know.

Mark stirred and picked up his head to look at her. “You surprised me, Goldilocks. I’d have bet all the money you were a virgin richie pulling a prank.”

“My Order values experience, not purity.”

“Order? You screwing a priest?”

“This act is beneath him, but he set me the task of understanding it. There is another lesson you can help with, however.”

“Slap another president on the rest and you can learn whatever you want.”

Lenore rose and slipped her hand into her coat pocket. The coat remained draped over the chair when she approached the bed.

“Close your eyes.”

When he obeyed, she brought the thin switchblade forward and stabbed his throat. Stevie’s cry of horror was cut off when the body fell over him. He scrambled out of the bed as Mark clutched at his neck. Lenore gave Stevie a long slice down his arm, but didn’t try to stop his escape. The door crashed behind him as she turned back to the bloody bed. Mark made a gurgled choking sound as he tried to staunch the wound.

It took some time to secure him to the bed frame with sheets and both belts from their clothing, but his strength was gone by the time she managed it.

The blade, stolen from Kirsty’s suitcase, wasn’t strong enough to sever limbs or head. Pointing the blade down, she pierced the belly, watching the blood well and flow as the body bucked.

Her sense of his pain was limited, and she couldn’t consume it as the Cenobites did. Nor could she strip the flesh at once, or explode the body. That power awaited her, but for now, the blade would be enough. As the room became quiet, she got to work.

~ ~ ~

Voices called and shouted in the street at the front of the building as Lenore slipped silently down the back stairs. Her coat covered the few blood stains on her clothes. In her pockets, she held the cleaned and folded knife, and the remaining money.

Turning down another busy street, she was swallowed up by the hustling mob of the morning pedestrian traffic.

“Lenore? Lenore!”

A woman’s voice, hesitant and weak. She stopped and located a car, one of the yellow ones Kirsty said you could wave to and have them take you somewhere. A woman sat in the backseat, calling to her from the open window – the woman who had wanted to see her tattoo.

Her father had asked her to keep away from this woman, but the Favored Son wanted her to find her birth family. He had given no instructions to harm them, so for now, she could please them both.

Keeping her coat closed, she walked to the waiting car. “Hello.”

“I’m so relieved I found you. Joey said you were missing. Get in, and I’ll take you back.”

Lenore struggled to remember her name. “I want to talk to you … Bobbi. Can we go somewhere quiet?”

Bobbi opened the door and let her in. “I’ll take you home. I wanted a chance to speak to you, too.” She brushed Lenore’s hair back with a fond gesture. “I have so much to tell you. I hope you can believe me – and I want to introduce you to someone very special.”

~ ~ ~

The Ramsay home was a comfortable place that had slowly acquired some trappings of the family’s growing wealth. A woman who seemed to be some sort of servant moved around the room preparing food.

Lenore sat at the kitchen table with the toddler on her lap. Louis stared up at her with wide blue eyes. Bobbi sat next to them smiling, her eyes bright with tears.

“I don’t understand it,” Bobbi told her again, “but I know it’s true.”

“It is.”

“They made you grow up. Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought I lived my life there. Kirsty said it must have been dreams, all within the same year as I grew. I have not presumed to ask my lord why.”

“You can’t mean one of them?”

“Bobbi, things aren’t the way they said.” She paused, and smiled. “Mother.”

The woman’s fingertips covered her lips as tears slipped down her face. “May I call you Renée?”

“If you wish ... but I shall have a new name soon.”

“What do they want with you, or us?”

Lenore frowned. “The Favored Son never told me his purpose or plans. Only that I should come here, to learn. Yet the others have lied to you. The Cenobites are at war with this world, that is true, but they are not evil. They have been kind to me, and love me.”

“Can you tell me anything, about Jack? If you remember him…”

“It’s been so long.” Petting the child’s dark hair, Lenore sighed. “If I had a puzzle box, I could reach him.” Raising her eyes to meet Bobbi’s, she saw the naked undying hope there and smiled.


	18. Choices

“You are free to choose, but you are not free to alter the consequences of your decisions.”  
– Ezra Taft Benson

**************************************************************************************

Pulling away from Tom’s tight embrace, Joey blushed as she faced Kirsty. He closed the door that they had left hanging open.

Kirsty didn’t waste time asking about their passionate display. “She left before dawn. I was up by then and she was gone – but it could have been in the middle of the night, too.”

“She wasn’t with you at all?” Joey asked, ignoring Tom’s startled look.

“No, she wasn’t, but we’d better get out and start looking for her. The cops are busy this morning, but that doesn’t mean they won’t pick up a suspected truant runaway.”

“If they did, I can smooth it over,” Tom said.

Joey’s attention was caught by the morning news Kirsty had been watching. “I notice my boss didn’t call me. What did I miss?”

Kirsty glanced at it distractedly as she put on her coat over the unofficial uniform of jeans and t-shirts that they all seemed to have adopted. “A young man, murdered in bed. Not that far from here. They’re calling it ‘brutal’. Not really news in New York, is it?”

“Kirsty…” Joey froze as she realized what she was hearing. Kirsty turned back to the television.

Howard Hutchins was in rare form on camera, gleaning every scrap of story he could short of getting arrested for interfering with an investigation. He had just turned away from a huddle of cops leading a teen to an ambulance.

“Police are on the lookout for a young blonde woman, alleged to be involved in the murder. When we get a sketch –”

Kirsty turned it off and faced them. “That doesn’t mean it’s her – but I’m going over there to start looking.”

“Why the hell would it be her?” Tom asked, indignant.

“We can’t rule out the Cenobite’s influence,” Joey insisted, though her guts twisted at the thought. She touched Tom’s arm gently. “It isn’t her, it couldn’t be.”

“Can’t rule them out personally, either,” Kirsty added. “What if they killed this kid and took her back?”

“We’re going with you.” Joey headed for the door. Halfway across the floor, Tom had taken her hand. Not caring what Kirsty thought of it, she held his hand tightly.

Joey got them closer than they might have managed otherwise by playing up to Hutchins’s vanity, but there weren’t many more details released about the murder.

“They’re saying the suspect vanished,” the blustering veteran reporter told them, “but someone saw a blonde girl getting into a taxi one street over. They’re talking with Yellow Cab now.”

“Thomas Ramsay! What are you doing here?”

They all turned to see a policeman smiling at Tom, his hand out. They shook hands and Tom introduced them to Captain William Bowery.

“We’re looking for a missing girl, but not the one you’re after.”

“When did she go AWOL?”

“Maybe last night, or right before dawn.”

“Age?”

“Seventeen.”

“Under the wire for the twenty-four hour rule. Why don’t you grab Hicks and give him the stats on her? We’ll try to help you out.”

“Thanks, Will.”

~ ~ ~

After a day of hunting and checking in with Officer Hicks every hour, they returned defeated to Joey’s condo. Throughout the day, they kept checking back to see if Lenore had returned, but found no sign of her.

The one time Joey had spoken to Hicks, it became disturbingly obvious that the murder suspect’s description was a perfect match for Lenore, but the officer seemed reluctant to say so to Tom. So far, Joey hadn’t had a chance to share that news with Kirsty, although she had to have realized it already.

Kirsty had offered to cook, saying she needed to stop thinking for a while. Joey got drinks for them and then sat on the couch beside Tom.

“Joey, there’s so much I don’t understand.” He took her hands in his. “If Jack knew what those creatures were, and saw what they did to his father, why would he try to perfect the device just to open a puzzle box and give himself to them?”

“I don’t think he was well. You said he’d been committed. Maybe he wanted to fight them?”

“Why have Renée with him? If they’d killed her, that would be the end of the project.”

Joey shook her head. “Not the end of it. Only killing Louis would do that. You should read the files and the other things in that box,” she said, pointing to the document box on the coffee table.

“But if his improvements had been lost –”

“I don’t think that would be as vital a problem. Some of the notes in there are observations of a doctor named Channard. He studied all of this as an obsession, including the Merchant family line. One of the things he discovered was that the Merchant heirs are plagued by dreams and nightmares, and most of them are about the Elysium Configuration. That’s why he wanted to purchase the original drawing. I think if Jack’s work had been lost, Louis might eventually figure it all out anyway.”

Tom frowned. “Why would this monster take my daughter after killing Jack?”

“I don’t know. They don’t usually do that. They arrive and kill, nothing else.”

Tom looked toward the kitchen and raised his voice. “What do you think?”

Kirsty came into the entryway and leaned on a wall. “He’s a monster with a plan. Lenore said she was told to learn about pleasure and pain, which she jumped into doing with a cold calculation. She also calls Elliott her father.” Kirsty paused and then sighed. “I think he took her for a reason. He let Elliott influence her so she’d be able to appeal to Joey and I, since he knows we’re fond of the captain. Then they used God knows what to make her a teen…”

“I’ll never figure out how to cope with that,” Tom muttered. “She was the sweetest little person – full of love, hated to see anyone feeling sad... How could those monsters turn her into a fanatic for their sick cult? In a year?”

Joey whispered, “We may not ever know. I’m so sorry.”

“They don’t call it Hell for nothing. I hope we can still save her and protect Louis, but we need to figure out the Cenobite’s motives. I ... realize this sounds paranoid, but I think he partly did it to lure me in, since she was dropped off in the house I was trying to sell. In addition – and this may be the real plan – he is probably trying to use her to find Louis.”

“Yes,” Joey agreed. “Elliott wouldn’t let me tell him anything about Louis, afraid that the Cenobite would know it, too. We know from Bobbi that the Cenobite wants the Merchant heir to make the device work. He thinks it’ll break down the wall between his world and ours, so he can wage his war on a bigger scale.”

“He might not be wrong,” Kirsty said, “and Louis isn’t up to fixing it, I bet.”

“Then he’ll move to plan B: killing him to end the bloodline. I guess he could capture him like he did Lenore – raise him to want to help them.”

Tom was silent, his face full of fear. He got up and called the policeman again.

~ ~ ~

After dinner, Kirsty collapsed on the couch. Joey cleaned up to have something to do while Tom sat at the kitchen table and spoke on the phone. She heard the change in his voice as he called home to check on Bobbi. A twinge of regret struck her, hearing the soft concern in his tone. Then he abruptly sounded annoyed.

“Marta, I want to speak to Bobbi. Would you give the phone to her, please? She’s not taking calls? You tell her it’s me. I understand that. Look, where is Louis? With you? Okay. Well, when the lady of the house remembers who the man of the house is, would you have her call me? I’m with Kirsty and Joey. We haven’t had any luck, but we’re still trying. Tell her that.” He closed his cell phone with a snap and watched her. “Never hire an old-fashioned German housekeeper. Damn woman takes Bobbi literally. I sign her paycheck – I should be exempt from the ‘do not disturb’ order.”

Joey smiled absently as she turned away from the sink. “We should go out again, keep looking – but I’m beat. Maybe if I could just rest for a little bit, I could get back to the hunt.”

They stared at each other across the brightly lit kitchen. Even with everything upside down and a mess, she couldn’t help taking in his heavy, sculpted body in the tight jeans, with the black t-shirt stretched over his chest.

Tom ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at her self-consciously. “What are we going to do about this, Miss Summerskill?”

“I wish I knew, but I won’t push – I mean, I don’t expect anything.” She tried to pass him but when his hand touched her arm, she melted. Turning to him as he rose, she let him embrace her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never behaved like this before.”

“Maybe we should just grab that short rest and get back to it, like you said. I’ll camp out in the armchair. Go up and take a nap. I’ll set my watch and wake you in an hour.”

She nodded and slipped by him, pausing on the second stair. Their eyes met, and she swallowed hard. Lifting her hand, she held it out to him. She held her breath when he hesitated. Then he took her hand and let her lead him up to her bed.

They were slow and gentle with each other this time, trying to be quiet to avoid waking Kirsty downstairs.

Joey barely remembered her last lover – some hopeless dolt in college? Did that new photographer at the station count, how many years ago? This man put them all to shame. He could be gentle and fierce, almost at once, and he made her feel strong and vulnerable at once, too.

“Joey,” he whispered in her ear as he fell still after their desire was sated. “I wish … things were different.”

She kissed him deeply and then tried to smile through rising tears. “So do I.”


	19. The Black Pope of Hell

“Collapsed paradise, laid waste to the masses.”  
– Lines from _Life of Uncertainty_ by It Dies Today

**************************************************************************************

“Kirsty hopes to reclaim my acolyte and in doing so, save herself. A thin dream, not easily realized – and she knows it.” Xipe Totec fell silent, deep in thought.

He paced the gray expanse of a subterranean corridor with a few followers in his wake. Angelique, Balberith, and Face might have remained at a distance out of reverence, but he doubted it. They despised the creature who walked at his side – the resourceful and nearly restored Julia.

“I didn’t know this girl – is there a danger of her being swayed?”

“Not by Kirsty.” Xipe Totec smiled. “The Daughter of Hell has renounced the influence of the only one who might have changed her course, swearing herself to my service alone.”

“And that of Leviathan, my lord,” Julia muttered, eyes barely downcast as she dared to correct him.

“Of course.”

He led them into the massive grand hall where the throng of Cenobites, acolytes, soldiers, creatures, and other denizens of the Labyrinth parted before him and closed again behind his train. Overhead, the ornate arches spanning the hall vaulted into infinity. Every stone echoed the voice of Leviathan beyond.

Seen or unseen, but heard and felt by all, the Black Diamond thrummed with power as the Pontifex approached the dais.

A light touch on the sleeve of his garment made him pause. Turning back to the woman, he gestured to give her permission to speak.

“My lord, your promise…” Julia’s voice drained away in the rising din of the throng. All eyes were on him – so also, they watched her.

“Do not fear. When the time comes, you will have your chance, as well as all the rewards you have earned. Await me in the Chamber of the Schism when this is finished. The time for which we have all labored is almost upon us.”

Embodiment of the will of Leviathan, the being called Xipe Totec mounted the steps to the dais alone. Against the curve of the stairs, a monster stood. The beast growled with pleasure at the stroke of its master’s hand as he ascended, its red eyes closing. When they opened again, it stared balefully out at the minions of the Labyrinth, daring them to come too near – but the chatter of its hideous fangs, as long as the master’s hands, kept the hordes at a respectful distance.

The Prince of Hell turned and faced them, watching their disparate tortured forms as they grew quiet. Here and there, one or two earned a slight nod as he met their gaze.

Newly restored by the Engineer, the three greatest members of his own Gash stood together to the right of the dais. Pride surged to see that they had defeated the aberrant Surgeon’s attempt to destroy them as completely as he had.  The alluring female, Falln, gifted him a secret smile. She was ready – they all were.

Finding the gruesome splendor of the Engineer as he hung from one of the main arches, the Cenobite shared a private smile with his oldest comrade-in-arms. The coming victory, whatever path it took, belonged to the Engineer as much as it did the Favored Son. They, two of the elder beings of the Labyrinth, had toiled far longer than any others for the glory of Leviathan.

His words to the host rang out in a sepulchral baritone, heard not only in the arched roofless hall, but echoing through every stone and facet of the Labyrinth.

“For eons we have served, beating back the encroaching abomination of Chaos. Through cracks in the order of the world the enemy seeps, changing the immutable. Now the time is near when we may enter Chaos en masse, expose its living heart, and tear it from its foundations.”

The host roared, stamped, and screamed. He didn’t need to quiet them. Their frenzy was his accolade. His voice rose effortlessly over them.

“In the wake of this martial carnage will come the gift of order. The rites of suffering will bring the few denizens found worthy into the Religion of Sorrows, where their devotion shall increase the glory of Leviathan for all eternity.”

Not surprisingly, the Engineer had disappeared. He was impatient with the ungoverned rabble and had no doubt gone to the private meeting chamber that lay behind the dais.

Many ancient members of the Order of the Gash remained, silent and regal, around the hall. They had grown in both favor and power over millennia. Yet their numbers had waned in the wars against Chaos and Morté Mamme. In this coming war, the vast numbers of the horde would have to suffice – with fewer abbats to lead them. The newest among the Order were not as strong, for the old ways had not been used to make them.

To the left of the dais stood a female and male – two of the ancillary Cenobites he had made in the midst of Chaos to torment Joey. The female watched him with a frenzied adulation as the male coldly observed the throng, his lens bringing various faces in and out of focus. These were two he hoped to set on Joey one final time and they were sufficient for that at least … but such specifics could wait.

“The gate we desire is beyond the limits of the configurations of the past. Once it is opened, there will be no end to our rampage. The enemy will drown in their own blood, and our pleasures unleashed will teach them our sermons. This will be our path, this day or another. First the key to the gate must be found, shaped, and turned. I shall go before you and seek this key, this blood that attempts to defy Leviathan’s edict. If it will not be used, it will be crushed and fed to the Black Diamond. Leviathan shall have the victory, in the envelopment of a great enemy, or through engorging on the children of Chaos.”

He caught Balberith’s eye and her soft smile. The tiny Cenobite female was one of the old ones, and one of those who missed she whom he would bring forth again.

“One more thing I will give to you, the faithful,” he added, raising his palms, arms spread wide. “It is long since the blade of the Harrower cleaved one of the greatest of our host. The flesh that dared such a grievous thing still bleeds, held by the bonds of Leviathan’s defeated enemy, Morté Mamme. By that flesh, and by my own, I swear to bring the majesty of the Lady Merkova back to the service of Leviathan. Then shall the halls of Chaos tremble as we lead you all to fight – in a war to end all wars.”

The host capered and screamed, the hellish noise of it pleasing him. His hands lowered and fisted at his sides, as his gaze swept over the hall.

_Hear them, my love. They long for your unholy power to bathe and soothe them once again. Without you, Leviathan forgive me, this victory would be hollow, as would eternity. Soon, I will know your touch once more, and when I am again your thrall, refracted in eyes that rival the blessed abyss, I shall turn our enemy into a husk of death – a shell of lost souls stitched in train for our pleasure._

Xipe Totec raised his hands up over them in the form of Leviathan’s benediction.

“Go, children of Leviathan, make ready – and the dark blessings of the Black Diamond be upon you.”

He turned and descended the opposite stair into the wide mouth of a tunnel. The scratch of talons and chatter of teeth followed him into the darkness. Opening the iron doors with his will, he walked into the dimly lit audience chamber with the monster at his heels.

Without looking at the number of his bothers and sisters gathered there, he went to his chair and sat, leaning back with his fingers forming a temple against his lips. The hellbeast curled at his feet, the clink of its metal collar sounding hollow as it rested its head on the stones.

 _Many promises you make,_ came the metal voice of the Engineer, heard by all. _Can you keep them?_ He hung from the Arch of Torments that led back to the Chamber of the Schism.

“Listen to what is said between the words,” Xipe Totec replied. “You will find I have not perjured myself.”

“But my lord,” Angelique interrupted, “if the gate proves impossible to open now as before –”

“Then it will be accomplished in time,” Balberith answered with a chuckle. “You are a clever one. Worthy of a politician as well as a priest.” She sighed in contentment. “Ah, to have Merkova with us again – oh, I have prayed that Leviathan would show you a way.”

Face, leaning against a wall near the sullen Atkins, turned from a whispered conversation with the soldier to speak to their leader. “Every effort to reclaim Merkova has failed. What is different now, lord?”

“If ever a soul existed that was worthy of my lady, it is the soul of our long sought Kirsty Cotton. I have taken more care in the teachings and plumbed the depths of her secret desires. I found a creature well able to allow Merkova to return.”

 _You must bring her to me._ The Engineer swayed slightly, his many hands grasping eagerly at the air. _The old ways are needed for the rebirth of such a being._

Atkins grinned. “Yeah, Top. No homemade job for the exalted skirt. Can’t wait to see her do her thing again myself.” He crossed his arms over his barrel chest, mimicking the ammunition belts that were woven in and out of his torso. “Then we can get the real war on, with or without the big gate.”

Xipe Totec rose from the chair. The hellbeast picked up its head to watch him. He glanced at Atkins and then at the others. “The real object of the next confrontation with Chaos, Armorer, is to find the current Toymaker. The manner of his death will be determined by his ability to activate the gate. If it is opened, he will be rewarded with the blessing of joining our crusade. If not, I will claim his life and end the bloodline. To this end, I sent my acolyte into Chaos. She is almost finished with her task and I have called her home. When she returns, the Toymaker’s fate, and the glory of our god, will be assured.”

He walked to the Engineer, his pet at his side. Raising his hands to him, the Engineer clasped them with a pair of his.

“For the other matter, I will bring her to you. May Leviathan grant our prayer, and return our most beloved sister to us at last.” Releasing his hands, he turned to the others. “Angelique, Face – accompany me.”

Face strode confidently at his side under the arch. Angelique stood a moment watching the Engineer detach himself and disappear down another twining corridor. She fell in step behind the beast before they turned the next corner.

They entered the Chamber of the Schism and found Julia waiting. Before she turned, the narrow strip of red muscle was still visible in the center of her back, studded with the white points of her exposed spine.

Facing them, the gown she wore was dark gray and elegant, the long hem of it appearing to melt into the stones at her feet. Her smile was controlled, fabricated. She didn’t trust him, as rightly she should not. Behind her, the Schism began to form in the air.

“My lord, I am ready and await your will,” Julia whispered, bowing her head to him.

“The acolyte is not to be touched.” Xipe Totec looked around at them all. “She is mine.”

“What if it is some other?” Angelique asked. “Or she may not wish to give up the Toymaker. He is of the flesh that gave her life.”

“It is she. Do not assume she holds human weaknesses. The Daughter of Hell is more devout than you have ever been.”

Face couldn’t hide his anticipation. “Will the one called Kirsty be with her?”

The question of the Cenobite thespian hung in the electrified air. The Schism split, and Xipe Totec opened his arms in greeting. An indistinct shape through the Lament Configuration’s gate slowly became clearer. Long golden curls framed a pale oval face, and the blue eyes were bright with tears.

A shape in her slender fingers – the box – had not flown from her to complete its movements. Created from the flesh of Leviathan, it sensed the touch of one dedicated to the god.


	20. Song of Leviathan

“Remember tonight … for it is the beginning of always.”  
– Dante Alighieri

**************************************************************************************

Louis was finally asleep on the couch in the living room. Lenore followed Bobbi into the study and watched her stumble as she walked up to a bookshelf along the back wall.

The woman still held the small bottle of vodka in her left hand, but didn’t notice when it fell and smashed on the parquet floor. Holding a lower shelf to balance herself, she reached up and removed a thick leather-bound volume. When she dropped it to the desk, Lenore saw that it was only half of a book.

Hidden behind it was a square object that gleamed in the light when the woman’s shaking hand pulled it free.

“I kept it, hoping it would help Jack complete his father’s work someday. Then the nightmares drove him mad. He began to ask me if I had it but I lied, afraid of what he’d do with it. I thought, if they came again… I’d learned how to use it to make them go away.”

“Yes, I know. Kirsty has one, too. She calls it ‘insurance’, but she wouldn’t let me use it to find Jack.”

“That horrible woman. She judges me for something I don’t even understand, but I can feel it – she hates me.”

“No, mother. Kirsty is just afraid of her own desires, and arrogant – she values her own trials over those of others. She doesn’t understand the puzzle box like I do. They can be used in many ways.”

“Please – just let me see my son again. He must have found another box. I didn’t protect him and I must know if he is all right. I dream of him, calling to me. Couldn’t they take him like they did you, and let him live there?”

“He was taken before me and I wasn’t allowed to see where he was kept, but he is there – no one taken in that manner can easily return.” She held out her hands and smiled sweetly. “Give me the box.”

A phone rang in the kitchen. The servant picked it up. Bobbi’s eyes darted to the doorway, to the voice in the kitchen. “That will be your father. They’ll come here; I told Marta to tell them you were here. He’ll want to see you, and see Jack, too. We should wait.”

“He will bring Joey, and Kirsty. They won’t want us to open the box – they don’t understand things like we do. If they get here and stop us, they’ll take the box away and we’ll never find Jack.” Holding her gaze, Lenore took a step closer. “Give me the box, mother.”

When it touched her skin, a flash of memory almost stunned her. The Favored Son had held this configuration once with his own hands. A sense of his power flowed through her, and with it one of his countless names.

 _Xipe Totec._ She shuddered with longing. _Vasa Iniquitatis, I come._ Lenore pressed the small round button on one side before turning the box over and stroking her thumb around the circle at the center of the pattern, willing it to open. _Bring me into the presence of the Suffragor Filius. Flesh of Leviathan, bring me to my beloved lord._

The sound of the chimes, a soft and simple but haunting tune, made her laugh with delight even as her eyes filled with tears. The circle she had caressed moved and rose. Opening her hands, she watched the pieces move. The blue flash of the Black Diamond’s lightning struck pleasure deep in her body as the puzzle box changed, turned, and reformed on her joined palms. At the first somber toll of the great bell, the wretched woman behind her gasped.

A wind engulfed the room as cracks formed in the wall beside the bookcase. The breach between the twin planes of existence grew quickly, shooting bolts of lightning into the room that exploded and burned things around them.

The chimes had ceased. The woman screamed when the shapes stepped into view, but the tolling bell and the frantic flutter of unseen dark wings drowned out the human voice.

Lenore held the solved puzzle box in her hands as the Cenobite stepped into the room, his arms opened to receive her. Clutching the box in her left hand, she ran forward with a cry, feeling his arms wrap around her, the touch of the golden pins in her hair.

“You have done well, child.”

“Yes,” spoke a hungry female voice behind him. “Very well.”

Opening her eyes, Lenore saw a human woman step around them and advance on Bobbi. Drawing in a ragged breath, she asked, “Who is that?”

“Julia has earned favor with Leviathan.”

“She isn’t the one, is she?” Lenore stepped back as he released her. “Father said you wanted Kirsty – but she isn’t worthy, my lord. She is repulsed by the servants of our god.”

“The Daughter of Hell is not yet free of human emotions? Jealousy I sense in you ... and a compassion for this flesh that cowers before us?”

Bobbi fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Please, Renée – make them give Jack to me…”

“This woman, she was kind to me when the others turned away in fear and suspicion ... and my father asked me not to allow her to be harmed.”

“Daughter, the being you know as your sire lives in me. You have felt it, and denied it in your heart because the shade still seeks to fight my will. Yet your pledge was to me and you must obey my commandments.”

“Will you make me what you are at last?”

“You shall stand before Leviathan and be judged. If it is to be, the Engineer will initiate you into the Order of the Gash. If you are worthy. The choice before you is the same choice you made once, with reservations in your heart. Serve me now without question or forsake my sermons forever.”

The points of the box pricked her palm and fingers as she tightened her grip. Her tears fell as she bowed her head. “What must I do?”

“Give this flesh as a gift to Leviathan’s servant.”

Deaf to the sobs behind her and the hands that reached for her, she whispered, “She shall have it, at your will, Vasa Iniquitatis.”

“Watch, child.”

Lenore turned, feeling his cold hands cup her shoulders. The woman named Julia bent, displaying a wide gaping wound in the skin of her back. Her hands pressed to the sides of Bobbi’s head, the touch making her scream.

The woman who had given her birth in this world seemed to blacken and melt. The greed and triumph shining in the other woman’s eyes was manic, starved. Faded beauty was crushed into ugliness between her hands as the terrible red wound in her back slowly healed. The screams were silenced long before the skin of the back was smooth. Dropped to the floor, the corpse was nothing but a dark and dried husk.

“Is she a Cenobite?” Pressing herself into his body, she felt his lips at her ear.

“No. Julia was human, killed by another who had escaped us, taken in this manner by him, as she has taken many and will claim more. Leviathan has allowed her to return to Chaos to bring him souls.” His gift of pain seeped slowly, deliciously, into her body from his. She felt it invade her soul. “But you – are mine,” he breathed.

“Yes…” A memory jolted her and she turned to face him. “My lord, the others are coming here. The other woman, the servant, told them I was here.”

“Once again, Kirsty seeks another only to find me. Go my daughter, stand before Leviathan – but do one thing first. Take me to the Toymaker, the heir of the Merchant line. I feel him near.”

“Louis… My lord, he is only a baby. He cannot threaten us.”

“His existence threatens Leviathan himself – yet a babe cannot complete the configuration begun by his father.” He turned away from her at a distant sound in the house. A door? “Take him, child. Bring him to our god as an offering for your judgment.”

“Vasa Iniquitatis, please – will you not come? Your teachings, the creatures of the Labyrinth –”

“A Hunter waits in the Chamber of the Schism to guard you, and Angelique is there to welcome you home along with one other. They will see you safely through.”

She caught his right hand and kissed his fingers swiftly before she ran from the study, wiping away the human tears that shamed her. The living room was changed by the Schism, too – ripped by a wide breach in the far wall.

Louis was awake and crying. He held out his tiny arms to her and she scooped him up, letting him sob into her hair. Approaching the breach, her heart leapt to see Angelique holding out a pale hand to her.

Holding the child and the box, she couldn’t take the Cenobite’s hand. The moment of hesitation was shattered by the door crashing in and footsteps running to stop her. Dropping the box to the floor, she reached out and grasped her old teacher’s hand firmly.

“Lenore! Oh, God, no!”

Kirsty had cried out, but Joey and the man named Tom had burst in behind her. Lenore stepped through the breach and turned. Their faces were full of horror. A twinge of regret for their earlier kindness haunted her, but her path was clear, the choice made.

“Louis! Don’t take my son!” The man pushed beyond the women standing frozen with fear.

“He is not of your blood. He belongs to my god now.”

She turned away and found the others ready to protect her. The beast that crouched near, ready to spring if commanded, was a horrific thing. Trusting in the Pontifex, she passed by it holding tight to Angelique’s hand.

“They will try to take him. I’m to give him to Leviathan.”

“Come. Face and I will guide you swiftly down halls where they cannot follow.”

She only looked back once. The face of Kirsty Cotton was etched with anguish and a strangled desire – but she wasn’t following, and she couldn’t be made the consort of Xipe Totec without the Engineer. Her voice called out, but not to the lover who fled from them all. Whatever they had once been to each other, they were enemies now, and rivals.

The stones of the Labyrinth seemed to melt and flow beneath her feet. Was it the power of the Cenobites who helped her? Her human vision blurred, her thoughts torn apart in confusion as they propelled her into the presence of the god.

Lenore gasped when the sensations stopped. She gripped the child tightly to her chest, feeling his fists locked around her neck. A throbbing hum hit her body with a power that drove her to her knees between the two pale and mutilated figures. The child screamed in her ear, but it made no sound over the song of Leviathan.

The roving black lights emanating from the giant diamond, circling eternally, fell over her and the child. The light bathed her bowed head in dark blessings, showing her every desire in her beating heart, every dream and secret wish in her flayed and supplicant soul.


	21. Time to Play

“It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.”  
– Buddha

**************************************************************************************

Lenore was gone, and the brief dream of redemption turned to dust. Taking a breath and swallowing a bewildering grief, Kirsty pushed brutally past her own pain and fear and moved to the tear between the worlds, Tom and Joey on her heels. There were worse things than losing one’s soul – and the child that could be the last hope for the world had been borne away into Hell.

Picking up the puzzle box Lenore had dropped, she realized what they had to do. The horror of it was more than a person could understand and remain sane, but perhaps she’d been fooling herself about her sanity all along.

Tom didn’t stop to consider consequences or sanity, but Kirsty stood in his way before he could enter the Labyrinth. She wondered impassively if he would strike her.

“Get out of my way. I have to get them back!”

“Go in there without a weapon and you’re meat.” Holding one box, Kirsty reached into her purse slung over her shoulder and pulled out another, sealed inside a clear plastic bag. It was the anniversary gift, the thing that had torn away her humanity, piece by glistening piece. “Take this.” She placed it in his hands, keeping the one Lenore had used for herself.

“This is a weapon?” He asked, impatient and incredulous.

“Yes. Joey knows how to use it.”

“But ... if we’re in the Labyrinth,” Joey said, “it can’t banish them.”

“You stabbed the Cenobite with it and it hurt him. Elliott told me that anything touched by Leviathan could harm his creatures, even kill them.”

“That doesn’t make sense. If he’s their god, that’s crazy –”

“Everything about this is, isn’t it? We have to trust Elliott.”

“He’s a part of the Cenobite! How can we be sure?”

“There’s no time. We know it hurt him once. I’ll keep this one in case we get separated. Let’s go.”

Tom went through the torn gate first and Kirsty waited to follow Joey in. She watched as Tom tore away the evidence bag. Time seemed to stretch as she watched it fall from the puzzle box.

For a moment, she thought the sound was in her head, having heard that cold laughter there so often. When the voice spoke, there could be no mistaking it.

“Ah, Kirsty – leaving so soon?”

For a moment, she almost crumbled. She looked up at the only person who could understand her fear, and staring into Joey’s terrified eyes, found a strength she never knew she was capable of. Giving her a soft smile, she began to turn to face her nightmare made flesh.

“Kirsty, no!”

Raising her chin as her eyes locked on the black gaze of the Cenobite, she answered Joey with a forced calm she couldn’t feel. “I’ll have to keep him from following. Go. Save Louis. Use the box to fight them and bring him out.”

“How can we find him?” Her hands grasped Kirsty’s shoulders.

“Follow the sound of Leviathan. She’ll take him there – up at the top of the Labyrinth, where you can see the damn thing.”

“What about Lenore –”

“She’s gone – he’s perverted her mind. Only Louis matters now.”

Joey pressed her forehead against Kirsty’s hair. “I’m so sorry… If I had left you alone–”

“Go. Make this worth it.” The touch of her only friend left her and their footsteps fled behind her into the eternal halls of Hell.

“So touching.” He moved slowly closer, stopping barely ten feet from her. “The warrior spirit rises, making the soul that much more rich, and ripe.”

“I can finally keep that promise. No more running.” She dropped the purse at her feet.

“Yet you intend to use the box to send me back, do you not? If you do, you will trap them inside.”

“They have their own way out.”

“If my servants do not kill them, they may have a chance, for a time. Yet there is another consideration. Send me back, and I will tear them myself.”

“I can’t leave you here, or they’ll never get away safely.”

“A conundrum. Before we choose, there is someone else here who longs to see you again.”

Kirsty’s stomach flipped over. She whispered, “My father?”

The Cenobite smiled. “Not quite.”

A door behind him opened and a woman stood there. Her Cheshire smile had haunted Kirsty’s nightmares ever since this madness began. A vicious hatred welled up in her, burning away her fear.

She hissed the name like a curse. “Julia.”

“Hello, Snow White. Care for another try?”

Kirsty looked quickly at the Cenobite. He spread his hands. “Vengeance is yours. I will not interfere until this conflict is decided.”

It was an insane choice, but she made it without hesitation. It would give Joey time. She knew the Cenobite would take her if she survived, but if Julia killed her, could she escape the Labyrinth and find a real peace?

Her fingers worked without looking down at the box in her hands. The solution had been given to her after she had lain with the Cenobite’s human soul. As the dark cube became a gray diamond, its patterns marked in silver, small cuts opened on her fingers. She ignored the drops of blood that fell to the floor. Holding one end of the configuration like a dagger, she advanced on the woman who had aided the resurrected Frank, and helped him kill her father.

Julia’s weapon was in her flesh, the power in her clawed hands to suck the life and flesh from her body. Kirsty didn’t fear that as much as her own hatred. She had to lose this fight, even as the desire to kill this woman whipped her soul.

“I’ve dreamed of this moment,” Julia said, circling her. “The Toymaker’s mother was good enough to help me prepare for it.”

“She was a weak fool.” Kirsty kept the configuration low at her side.

“You were right,” she said to the watching Cenobite, “the scared little girl has grown up.” Smiling at Kirsty again, she added, “But you had to become a murderer to be interesting.”

“Give up the games, bitch. We’ve both got a date with the devil.” Kirsty darted her gaze to the Cenobite, and Julia lunged instantly.

Collapsing into the strike, she let the woman knock her to the floor. Her wrist was slammed down and pinned, the silver diamond skidding away. Julia’s hands closed on the sides of her head.

“Nothing personal, babe,” she gloated.

Kirsty’s soul was tugged violently. The urge to fight tensed her body and she struggled to lie still, to allow the drain that might damn her, yet would keep her from the Cenobite’s depraved lusts. Focusing on Julia’s hate-ravaged face, her vision started to blur. The mouth over her opened in a silent cry, or was she preparing to suck her life from her in a kiss?

Silver. Something silver protruded out of the mouth. Wetness splashed into her face, blinding her. Kirsty’s body came alive again, desperate to fight, and too near death to resist the urge to survive.

Pitching Julia away from her, she rolled to her stomach and then rose to her knees, frantically wiping her face. Drops of blood clung to her eyelashes as she stared down at her attacker. Julia lay on her face, and the configuration diamond was punched through the back of her skull.

Numb, she watched it move. With turns and twists, it reformed itself into a cube inside the skull, shattering the bone more before it rose, dripping, to hang before her stunned and bloody sight.

“Take it, child. Banish me and save yourself. Or ... can you finally acknowledge your desires? The time to play is well past. I will have your soul.”

“You said you wouldn’t interfere.”

“Until the conflict was decided. I admire your resourcefulness, as always. You must have realized I would never allow you to fall to such a diminished fate – and so you still toy with me, to the end. When I know your flesh at last, you will find the suffering pales all human pleasure, even dimming what you took from me in dreams.”

“Don’t fuck with me. That was Elliott. I know.”

His laughter echoed in the silent room. “I will not, I assure you. In this form, there are so many more delights to indulge in.” He offered her his hand, the smile ghosting on his lips. “Take the box or take my hand. I am through with waiting, and with bargains.”

Kirsty reached out, her fingers closing on the slick surface of the bloody box. She plucked it from the power that had held it in the air and shuddered. Meeting his calm and silent stare again, she swallowed.

“You want me to do this.” The truth of it paralyzed her, but her sluggish mind couldn’t comprehend it. “Why?” Tears threatened as his cold smile remained.

“Send me back now, and my triumph will be assured. I can always collect you in time.”

“They’ll find him. They’ll beat you, and get out, get away.”

“Your faith is commendable – yet the gates must be opened from this side.” She shook her head, but he pressed on. “If Hell could open them from within, we would never have needed the configurations to enter your world.”

She choked and the tears fell, washing the blood from her face in streaks. “You’re lying. Lying…” She tried to think, tried to breathe. “Tiffany made the box work from the inside, she got us out.”

“The gate was open already, Kirsty. The box will close it, yes.” He moved closer to her, his hand held over her head, the palm down. The image of a priest, offering comfort and absolution, tore her as his hooks soon would.

Kirsty bowed her head and sank down over her knees, clutching the box to her chest. Sobs ripped from her throat. “Elliott,” she breathed, desperate. “Please help me.” She twitched when his palm touched her head, her body shaking.

“There are mysteries impossible for you to understand. The Religion of Sorrows is not the horror you imagine.”

The palm lifted, but then his hands raised her to her feet. Dizziness pitched her, and her free hand struck the silver hooks in his chest, her fingers sliding over the gashes in his flesh. An electric feeling went through her, the scent of blood and vanilla that clung to him making her senses spin. His hands held her arms gently.

Weakened and sick, she let her forehead touch the ridged leather covering his body. The pattern of the alien clothing caught her thoughts, her head turning to lay her cheek against it as her eyes followed the lines and shapes she had studied on the boxes for years.

His chest rose and fell as he breathed in the blood that covered her like an alluring perfume. A muddled memory intruded, but as she tried to capture it, it fell into mist. When he spoke, she felt the voice thrum through the leather.

“Your suffering has courted me through years of meaningless conquests. Deep in your soul, the desire to enslave, to control – it drives you again and again to this moment. This choice: to command such power, to have the love of one who can give you eternal devotion – is that not worth this small surrender?”

She lifted her head, but froze at the sight of the box she held in her other hand. The pattern of it appeared to melt into his shoulder. Shaking her head to clear it, she tried to regain her sense of self. “Love… There’s love in Hell? That must be a lie.”

“Kirsty…” The haunting familiarity in his voice made her look up at him. “You had love, and pleasure in my realm. Taking this, you have him, too.”

“No.” She tensed. Escaping his grasp would have been impossible, but to her shock, he released her. Backing away, she held the box between them. “What I had with Elliott wasn’t tainted. He fights you, and so will I.” Eyes locked on his, her thumb stroked the box, her fingers moving it instantly, as if it was eager to help her against him.

He made no move to stop her, but the fear that he had told the truth about trapping Joey couldn’t hold her back. Calling to mind everything Elliott had told her, every word he wove as he caressed and pierced her, she saw in the whole how to fight, how to win.

“Poor Kirsty. So sure her love for the soldier will help her destroy her enemy. The man you touched has never been separate from me. What you believe he is died before your father’s father was born. But you will learn. The lessons have only begun, my love that was, and will be.”

The box moved, spun, closed. Terrified of the chains he could still summon, she closed her eyes. Light flashed through her eyelids, and the roar of the closing gate struck her with a wind that blew fierce for a moment before swirling into silence.

Her eyes burned, fouled by Julia’s blood. Sickened and nearly faint, she opened them. The Cenobite was gone – but the body of her step-mother remained. Staring at it, knowing what she had to do, she tried to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. In the next moment, she fell to her knees, dropping the box. She leaned over, sickness cramping her guts, choking her until she succumbed.

When she could rise, Kirsty stumbled into the kitchen. She winced at the sight of the housekeeper, stretched over the table and fastened to it with dripping iron hooks. The eyes seemed to accuse her.

Backing up, she hit a counter, and the knives kept there rattled in their heavy wooden block.

~ ~ ~

The fire roared, spewing acrid black smoke into the room as she fed it the hands that had tried to consume her. They fell on the glowing bed of curling newspaper covering the charred stones of the fireplace and began to melt.

Memories of the thing that had been her husband plagued her as the heavy blade quartered the meat, splintering the dark bones as she chopped them, and the polished and blood-soaked wooden floor underneath.

She ignored the blood that covered her as she tried to block out Trevor’s face in her mind, his lips moving, speaking her name with longing.

The tools of Thomas Ramsay’s trade lay about her, interspersed with clumps and sections of flesh. Only one of the blackened bones was whole, a long femur, roughly stripped of muscle. Raising the cleaver one last time in sore fingers, she smashed it down diagonally on one end of the bone. Shards and slivers, and detritus of meat, flew around her as she turned her head and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, it lay in front of her. The weapon that could kill them: tapering to a vicious jagged point, it waited to avenge her father, Joey’s Terri and Doc, Kyle, and so many nameless others. It would reclaim their suffering and deprive Hell of as many demons as she could manage before she fell.

_And Elliott. I will avenge Elliott._

The nausea was gone as she tossed every piece, shard, and gobbet that she could pick up into the fire. She knew the risk of the blood left behind, but the others were more important now.

“I’ll get Joey out, with her lover and the heir of Phillip Lemarchand. They aren’t trapped.” She reached for the box with one hand as she picked up the bone spear with the other. “I can’t help Elliott, but I will save them.”

The memory of Elliott’s touch drove away Trevor’s torments. She could almost feel his lips on her breasts as he whispered the secrets of Hell, giving them to her without expectation, or guile, or even hope.

She had wanted his body more, the driving thrusts inside her bringing her mind to a stunning emptiness where pleasure she had never known waited to cleanse her of all sin.

There was nothing left of him in the modern world, no descendants, no scrap of DNA. She couldn’t bring him out of her dreams or free him from his prison. All that remained was the knowledge, the secrets. How to kill Cenobites, and perhaps, how to live when it was finished.

One-handed, Kirsty caressed the puzzle box as she struggled wearily to her feet. The blood of the Prince of Hell had mixed with hers, and with Julia’s, on the hand that stroked the box. It began to move, the chimes played, and when they stopped and the great bell began to toll, her body had ceased to tremble.

Cold and full of hate, she watched the room change, the walls shatter, and the gate open. A Cenobite strode through it, unknown to her. Massive and grotesque, his torso a double row of heavy breasts, he raised shrunken arms as if to welcome her. The smile on his face was twisted, the bottom lip pulled down and anchored to a nipple. The teeth opened to speak.

Kirsty moved, fast and lethal. The jagged bone, blackened by the damnation of Leviathan, was buried to the hip socket in the obese horror. She looked up into his eyes, a predatory smile on her lips.

“I’ve heard it all,” she whispered, and yanked the weapon free as the body began to fall.

The head crashed into the fireplace and exploded as the rest of it struck the floor. The broad back caught fire and spread a thin blaze over the bubbling wood and searing blood.

She turned away from watching it burn when she was sure it wouldn’t rise. Facing the open gate, vengeance in one hand and salvation in the other, Kirsty entered the ordered and endless halls of Hell.

The droning hum of Leviathan seemed to greet her. She thought of the Cenobite who had called her his love, the old adversary who had driven her before him in fear all of her adult life, and her lips pulled back over her teeth.

“You told me once that knowledge was power. Come on, you bastard. It’s time to play.”


	22. Canvas of Flesh

“Love has its place, as does hate. Peace has its place, as does war. Mercy has its place, as do cruelty and revenge.”  
– Meir Kahane

**************************************************************************************

“Just go up, keep going up,” Joey said, the repetition becoming a meaningless chant.

Tom was the one who led her now, his desperate need to save Louis, as well as Lenore, driving him on beyond exhaustion and fear.

In her other hand, Joey held the box, the one Kirsty had kept in a clear plastic bag in her purse. Had that been the evidence bag from the scene of her husband’s suicide? Tom had torn it off and left it behind.

“It’s a dead end,” Tom whispered. Releasing her hand, he took her by the shoulders. “There’s no way up from here and these doors are locked. What now?”

Joey didn’t answer. The barrier behind him was moving, opening. Something stirred sluggishly on the opposite wall of the chamber. Tom turned and they both stepped in to see what it was. He took the box from her as if he meant to use it to protect her from the horror before them.

The wall moved. Joey’s fingers covered her mouth as ten eyes opened, not all of them in pairs, and four mouths tried to speak. The fifth, wearing a smile of welcome, was the only whole face. Hanging high over the rest, still tentatively attached to his stretched and torn body, he presided over the others that his flesh held together in a skein of moist crimson.

Tom whispered, “What the…”

“Hell,” Joey finished for him. “This is Hell – it may as well be.”

“We have to get out of here.”

Joey moved closer to the wall. She had seen that face before, in newspaper clippings and in photos while researching Kirsty.

“Trevor… Trevor Gooden?” she called out through her fingers.

“Where is she?” the monstrosity answered. “We wait…”

Tom moved behind her and tried to pull her away. “It’s … alive? Come on, honey. We have to go.”

“Why is he here?” she cried out. “All of them … she said he killed…”

“Who killed? What are you talking about?”

Wrenching herself from Tom’s grip, Joey stumbled up to the wall. She tried not to be sick when more details of the living corpses became clearer in the gloom.

“Trevor! How did they end up here with you? You opened a box, didn’t you – were they with you then?”

The face of Trevor Gooden twisted into a ghastly smile. “I was the last, the greatest piece of her art. She gave them to me – forever. She opened it … Kirsty…”

“Oh my God,” Joey whispered, backing away.

Tom waited behind her. “What does that – thing – mean?” He sounded sick himself.

Joey shook her head, took his hand, and turned her back on the proof of how far Kirsty had already fallen.

Down the dim corridor outside, a figure called her name. She let Tom pull her into a run away from it, hearing the laughter of the Cenobite chasing them in echoes. The thick lens had twirled and telescoped in his head at the sight of her. It was out of place in the ancient halls, but more terrifying to her than any eternal fiend.

Turning down other paths that led them upward again, Joey tried to put the image of Doc out of her mind, but the fearful thought persisted – if he had been sent after her, where was Terri?

They paused for breath at the bottom of a narrow staircase that might lead to Leviathan. If the roving shadows of light on the upper walls weren’t a trick, the steps should go up to the top of the Labyrinth.

“Who was that other Cenobite?” Tom asked. He was staring at the box in his hands. “It knew your name.”

“That’s what happened to Doc, my friend. Lenore wants to become that – or something like him.” Joey leaned against the stone of the stairwell shaft.

“This creature, the one at the house, raised her to want that? My little Renée…”

“Yes.” Her wry smile was half grimace, but she still hoped for the chance to insult the lord of the Cenobites with his nickname again. “I’ve been calling him ‘Pinhead’ for years. Never told Kirsty, though.” The smile faded. “There was a lot she didn’t tell me, too.”

“He’s killed her by now.” Tom handed her the box. “She said you knew how to work this.”

Joey had never changed the configuration into its diamond shape in waking memory, but her fingers accomplished it now without the help of any conscious knowledge. Had Elliott told her how? She couldn’t remember. Holding it in one hand, she reached for his with the other.

“Pinhead won’t kill Kirsty, he’ll turn her into one of them. She’s been fighting him a lot longer than I have, and I think she always knew that was his intention.” Joey bit her lip. “Tom, if Bobbi –”

“She was home. She found Renée and brought her there. If I’d found her first...” The truth of the brutal murder on the news seemed to occur to him as it already had to her. He shook his head. “After running into Marta, I don’t know what to think. When we get back, I’ll search the house.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that –”

“Hush, honey.” Tom leaned in and kissed her forehead before facing the stairs. “You didn’t get me into this. Jack did.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll get the children. Kirsty won’t have thrown herself to that monster for nothing.”

“Your daughter won’t want to come with us,” she whispered. “She’s – in love with Pinhead.”

“I have to try. What did your ghost tell you? There’s good in her. I don’t care what they’ve done to her. I have to, okay? I’ve been trying to get her back for so long.” When Joey nodded, her face wet with tears, he added, “Let’s go.”

They rushed up the steps and something tried to attach itself to Tom before he could stumble away and let Joey up. She saw it and shouted.

“Terri, let him go! You want me!”

“You want him,” the slight Cenobite answered. “So I want him. You can watch him die, and then join him.”

Joey didn’t stop to remember the pretty young girl who had helped her investigate the box, the girl who couldn’t dream. The being that used her body now was a horrid parody of her friend. Raising her hand, the point of the configuration a sharp, wide pick, Joey shoved it into the Cenobite’s back. It entered to the left of the leather-clad spine, making an awful crushed puncture in the body.

The thing that had been Terri screamed. She seemed to explode in a flash of blue lightning.

Tom grabbed her and held her close, his powerful frame trembling. Still clutching the altered puzzle box, Joey lifted her head from his shoulder and gasped. Kirsty’s account of it hadn’t prepared her. Releasing Tom, she turned him to face it, and they both stared in shock over the top of the eternal maze.

Leviathan pulsed and called there, emitting black searchlights over the Labyrinth with a cold omniscience they could feel. It was massive and sentient, and worst of all, it wasn’t against them – it was indifferent to them.

“Well, no mistake – that’s the floating thing we had to find, but ... where is Renée?”

Joey pointed down the strange road they were standing on. The distance could be a mile or a year away, but Lenore and Louis were there – and they weren’t alone. Without a word, they clasped hands and began to run.

When they reached the girl holding the child, two Cenobites and a hideous dog creature stood ready to defend them.

“Renée!” Skidding to a stop, Tom held his hands out to the teen that had been his lost daughter. “Don’t go with them, please. I’ve searched for you for too long to lose you now. I love you so much…” Tears clung to his lashes. “Please Renée, I’m your father.”

She looked at him without comprehension. “I am flesh of your flesh, but my father is Elliott Spenser. He asked me not to harm you, and so I will not – but I belong here.”

The girl struggled to her feet, the toddler oddly quiet in her arms. Joey felt a beat of horror. Was Louis alive?

“Lenore,” she pleaded, “If you give Louis to the Cenobites he’ll be killed. Elliott would be grieved. You don’t want to hurt Louis. He’s your brother, and he’s just a baby. Give him to us.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Tom cried out. “Come away with us, both of you. I’ll protect you, and you can grow up together. Please listen!”

“The things you see here – you have no weapon against them. The configuration may destroy the lesser ones, but the Order of the Gash need not fear it. They worship its very substance. As do I.”

“No!” Tom surged forward but Joey fought to hold him back. He paid no attention to the beast that nipped at him from inches away. “You’re not like them. You are human. You are my child!”

“I am judged.” Lenore looked down into the boy’s still face. “Leviathan wants him.”

Her guardians began to move closer, but a sound stopped them. The dog thing still growled, but the Cenobites watched as something that might have been an elevator car rose up from one side of the abyss around them. Lenore moved eagerly toward it.

“What in God’s name is that?” Tom asked in a strangled whisper.

“Lenore, please,” Joey cried out. “If you take Louis with you, he’ll die!” The Cenobites watched them, but didn’t interfere. “Elliott asked you not to harm your birth family.”

The girl glanced back and studied her. “You have spoken to him?”

“Yes, I have. He asked me to help you, and to help Louis.”

“They will take him,” Lenore whispered, facing them again, “but I could still fulfill my promise.”

Joey choked back her tears as the child was offered to Tom. He took the boy from her hands, touching her fingers with his own.

“Renée, I beg you – come with us,” Tom whispered.

“This is the reward I’ve waited for. The Engineer will make me like them and I shall stand at the right hand of the Prince of Hell for eternity.” She turned away again without looking back.

“Stop!” Tom tried to rush after her, but the monstrous dog leaped in front of him.

“The Daughter of Hell will not be hindered,” the female Cenobite said. She and her companion looked up as a ringing peal of dark laughter echoed through the Labyrinth. “The Ponifex summons you, Face. I will retrieve the Toymaker.”

Responding to an order Tom and Joey hadn’t understood, the male Cenobite disappeared.

Torn between watching Lenore and their enemies, neither of them moved for a moment. Then Kirsty’s words, asking her to make her sacrifice worthwhile, rang in Joey’s mind, making her turn away to oppose the remaining Cenobite as Lenore stepped inside the narrow chamber.

Tom’s cries of anguish made her look in that direction just as the chamber began to drop, circling slowly out of sight.

Her stomach lurched, seeing the arcane instruments that pierced the girl’s body, sucking out blood and replacing it with some nameless dark fluid. Lenore didn’t scream – the torture seemed to make her writhe with ecstasy as she was taken away from them.

“It is rebirth for her,” the Cenobite explained. “She will soon have the power to match her devotion.”

Joey gripped the configuration, disgust twisting her expression. “She could have had…”

“What? A human life? Love?” The creature laughed. “She wants the Black Pope himself.”

A memory of Bobbi’s tugged at her. She had described a female of dark and arrogant beauty – human, but evil. The woman had come before with the Cenobite, tried to seduce John Merchant into opening a gate to Hell, and threatened Jack when he was a child. The tall being with her bald scalp peeled down from her skull could only be that woman.

“You’re Angelique.”

“Yes – and the configuration won’t destroy me.”

A crack of deafening sound made Joey wince. Tom stood at her side, holding Louis tightly. He pointed overhead. The massive diamond shape of Leviathan was changing, turning, sections of it showing a dark and gold pattern. The configuration in Joey’s hand was changing with it.

“The Schism is closing,” Angelique said. “You’ll be trapped here forever.”

“I’m not changing the box and neither is that giant thing!” Joey shouted over the noise. “She’s doing it!”

Joey desperately tried to stop the puzzle from changing, to reverse it back to the diamond, but it resolutely transformed into a square again. Angelique’s laughter was chilled, echoing around them.

The hellbeast was eager to attack them, but it didn’t. Was the Cenobite preventing it? She was standing at its hips, well behind the snapping six-inch fangs.

 _She’s afraid to come too close to us. Maybe the puzzle box can hurt her._ It wouldn’t move for her now. _Why doesn’t she just take it away from me? She almost seems to be using the animal for protection against us._

The silence reigned for a moment only as the huge puzzle box shape that was Leviathan turned into the form of a cube. Then the clink of metal chains broke the brief quiet.

Joey screamed, but it was Tom who was struck by the hook. A shallow barb, it tore through the skin of his chest immediately. His shout of shock and pain filled Joey’s head as she fought down panic.

Grabbing Tom’s arm, she yanked at him. “Run!”

“No! Renée!” He stared hopelessly at the place where his daughter had sunk into horror.

“When she comes out of that, she’ll kill us, too! We have to save Louis!” Joey moved as if she meant to take the child.

Tom shook his head fiercely. “I’m okay. I’ve got him.” He started to run and Joey ran beside him, away from Angelique and the monster that roared at their escape.

A second chain whipped from the air and caught him in the back. He screamed as it tore free, but kept running.

 _She’s not throwing them at me,_ Joey thought frantically. _She’s going after him because he’s got Louis. That’s probably why she isn’t setting the beast on us – it wouldn’t know prize from prey. Where the fuck are the stairs?_ Tom dropped out of sight ahead of her and Joey yelled out his name.

“Here! Don’t fall down them,” he answered. She skidded to a stop just in time to avoid doing exactly that and took the hand he offered her to help her down. “Can they pitch those chains if we aren’t in sight? They came out of nothing!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!”

They went down the steps as fast as they could. Tom pulled Joey beside him again and they ran down the corridor the way they had come. Louis was crying, his face buried in Tom’s neck.

“What that bitch said – are we trapped?”

“Kirsty must have closed the gate.”

“Closed it! She wanted us to get Louis out!”

“She probably did it to send Pinhead back here. I know that was him laughing. That means she’s still alive!”

“It also means she’s fucked us over!” he shouted as they ran.

“No, I can’t believe that,” Joey said, panting for breath. _She wouldn’t. Kirsty wants to beat them, I know it._ The memory of Trevor Gooden loomed in her mind, but she pushed it aside. _I don’t care what she’s done. She knows Louis is the key, and if she’s alive, she’ll help us – somehow._ “She can open the gate again.”

“Doesn’t that mean more of those monsters would be there to attack her?”

“Kirsty will find a way, she won’t give up. She wants to save Louis to save the bloodline!”

Joey noticed the chamber as they passed it, the room where Kirsty’s husband waited for her. The doors were still open. With a shudder, she took it as a sign they were on the right track and kept running. Rounding the next corner, she collided into Tom’s broad back.

“What’s wrong?”

Then she heard the sounds: the cracking of Leviathan, configuring back into a diamond. A gate was opening somewhere – but another noise killed her elation. Barely noticeable under the din above, her journalist ears heard it – the whir of a camera lens. Looking around Tom’s shoulder, she paled at the sight of Doc.

“Finally chasing that story, Joey? Let me help you. I promised.”

“Renée said the box could kill these – isn’t he one of the ones like that Terri?” Tom plucked the screaming child from his arms to Joey’s, taking the box from her.

“Yes, but – Oh, God...” Another Cenobite appeared behind Doc: the thick maimed bartender who breathed fire. “We have to find another way.”

She turned to retreat and Tom followed. They ran back past Trevor’s chamber again until their way was blocked – by Angelique and the hellbeast. Behind her was J.P., the former owner of the doomed Boiler Room club, leering as always. Pressed on both sides, Joey found her back against open air. With a cry, she ran into the chamber and straight up to the thing that had been five different people.

“Don’t look baby,” she whispered. Trying to soothe the boy, she turned his head into her hair.

“Stay there,” Tom said from the door. “I’ll try to hold them off.”

“No, they’ll kill you to get to us! Tom, please!” She looked up at the eyes that stared down. “Trevor, will you help us? Is there another way out?”

“The strong will forces the configuration,” he whispered, smiling down at her.

“I don’t understand. Please...”

Tom joined her and started searching along the dark walls for a door, but they both froze when footsteps stopped in the doorway.

“Caught like rats,” Doc’s voice gloated.

“Step aside.”

Joey glanced over her shoulder, trembling, and saw Angelique shove Doc back.

Tom moved in front of her as she sank down against the stone, using her body to shield Louis. Drops of blood from the mural of corpses fell into her hair and onto her white t-shirt. She closed her eyes and waited for the chains.

A cry was torn from her when she heard metal strike flesh. The puzzle box fell with a clatter across the floor. Her eyes opened, staring up at Tom’s outstretched and hooked forearm – but the chain dangled from it, its loose end writhing on the stones as he swayed, fighting shock.

Angelique had left the doorway. They could hear her ordering the others to attack, but none of the Cenobites entered to threaten them. Tom knelt down, almost falling, and collapsed beside her. Shifting the crying child, Joey reached out and touched the hook. He hissed as she drew it out, unable to avoid tearing the skin further when the barb came free. Joey tossed it away from them in disgust, nausea threatening.

Trying to control his breathing, Tom whispered, “Something’s happening out there.”

She lifted her head. Peering around Tom, she shuddered as J.P. stepped into the chamber. The Cenobite opened his mouth to speak, and screamed.

Shocked, Joey saw a black object erupt through the body. J.P. toppled, and then fell forward on his face. The white gleam of his head, already punctured by the machine that clicked and moved, cracked with the impact. Something dark and wet began to leak onto the floor as the machine in his brain ground down to a halt.

Standing in the door was a silhouette, holding the rough spear that had felled the Cenobite. In the other hand was a glitter of scarlet and gold. The figure leaned over to pick up the box Angelique had tried to take from Tom. Inexplicably, before grasping it, the hand tossed the red-gold object it had held at their feet. Turning away with the box they had used, the figure disappeared.

Gold flashed as the new box fell – another cube. It rolled irradically to a stop, sticky with drying blood. Feeling faint, the fear of being trapped in Hell making her sick, Joey picked it up.

She struggled to rise. Tom helped her, taking Louis in his arms again. Moving forward cautiously, still holding the gory puzzle box, Joey rushed to the door. For miles in either direction, the halls of stone stretched on, unchanged and curving into infinity.

Overhead, the tortured voice of Trevor laughed with delight. “Kirsty...”

Joey felt dizzy. Clutching at the door, she turned to see J.P. dissolving into the stones. A ripple of weakness struck through her and she fell over in a faint.

~ ~ ~

Tiny hands were petting her hair. Joey opened her eyes and saw Tom staring at her upside down. For a horrific moment, she thought he’d been put in the wall to bleed with the others.

“It’s okay, we’re safe, I think. I hope – but we have to get out of here. That female Cenobite could still come back. She ditched the others.”

The child’s hands left her. Tom had picked Louis up. Joey rolled off of his lap and sat up.

“Kirsty’s gone,” she whispered.

“She left the doors open, and dropped off one of those, at least – since she took ours.”

Joey held the box to her chest, heedless of the smearing blood. “Did she go back?”

He stood and held out his hand. “We have to go. Bobbi said there were all sorts of these things and if there’s ... any chance she’s alive...”

Joey swallowed and nodded. Taking his hand, she followed him to the doorway and waited while he checked the hall. One final glance at the grisly wall showed all ten eyes watching her. Sickened, she studied the puzzle box instead.

_This is the one Bobbi had, the one I tried to bury in concrete years ago – which means, Kirsty gave us the box that she used to open the gate. Was she giving us the way out? She wouldn’t have cared about keeping the one Trevor gave her. This is not a woman interested in sentimental keepsakes – just gory undead ones... I don’t know what that is about, but I want the opportunity to ask. Why didn’t you stay with us? Kirsty – I hope to God you went back._

“Joey, look! It’s changing!”

To their right, the endless corridor had decided to end. Where the stones had marked another curve, a gate now stood in a dead end. Light and color leaked through it from their own world. Without another word, they headed toward it.

Footsteps sounded behind them. Expecting Angelique, Joey looked back and moaned. The figure that stood there wasn’t tall. Half of it was so white it appeared almost blue in the dim light. The other half was a bloody and skinless abomination.

“The Toymaker cannot leave this place.”

Tom turned at the sound of that voice. Joey didn’t hesitate. She began to solve the puzzle Kirsty had given her, to save their lives from the terrifying image of the transformed girl they had tried to save.

“Renée, my God… My little girl… Please, no.”

“Tom, come on – just a little farther. I can close it and she won’t be able to hurt us.”

The laughter was similar to Angelique’s, but higher. The voice was full of cruel mockery. “I promised not to hurt you,” she crooned, “but I must bring Lemarchand’s child to my lord.”

“Tom!”

Tears fell down his face. “Renée, I love you… I’m so sorry, my baby…”

Joey might never have gotten him through the gate without the chains. The Cenobite that had been Lenore, had been his little girl Renée, seemed intent on hauling him to her with six chained hooks in his flesh. Yet it woke him from his shocked and grieving stupor. With Louis screaming in his arms, he yanked himself back brutally, pulling the hooks through his skin and freeing himself to run.

Grabbing his arm with her free hand, Joey helped him stumble through the gate where he fell in a heap, cradling the child protectively in a cage of bleeding chest and arms. Joey followed, frantically working the box.

Clawed hands groped for her, one of them a thing of glistening red muscle and white tendons. Another twist, a final turn, and it was done. She froze and stared, inches away, as the Cenobite screamed into her face seconds before the gate closed.

~ ~ ~

“Kirsty’s not here.” Joey sank onto the arm of the couch. They had searched in silence, but neither of them had spoken it aloud. “We’ve locked her inside.”

Tom was on his knees fishing through the fireplace with the poker. Joey looked around in a daze. The living room was a scorched mess, with an ugly burn over most of the parquet floor. How the whole house hadn’t gone up, she couldn’t tell. Marks made by the discarded cleaver were everywhere, and the ashes were full of blackened bones.

At the opposite end of the couch, the precious baby they had fought to save was curled up asleep on his back in a pile of blankets. Neither of them could cope with leaving him in the nursery alone. In between, and still far too close, the puzzle box sat on a piece of her torn shirt. She had been terrified to wipe off the blood, or to touch it at all unless she meant to open it.

Tom had told her to take one of Bobbi’s shirts, and it felt strange to wear the white linen blouse as she sat in the woman’s home not far from her desiccated corpse.

“What was that mangled monster on the wall – you talked to it, you seemed to know...”

“Trevor Gooden was Kirsty’s husband. When I told you about the Cenobites, it … wasn’t everything I know, but the rest was her business. Officially, Trevor murdered the four people who were … a part of him there. Then he tried to take her with him in a suicide attempt over a bridge in their car.”

“Unofficially?”

“I don’t know. His being there … like that … made no sense.” _I guess she killed him – was it self-defense? She’s a good person, I know it, but you end up in the Labyrinth when … a Cenobite takes you there. He could have opened a box, but he said she did, he said she…_

“I know what she used as a weapon.”

Joey startled and then sighed. _Her weapon had to be the car, the bridge. She couldn’t have used the Cenobite somehow, she wouldn’t…_ “What was it?”

Bobbi and the housekeeper were dead, and Kirsty would be if she wasn’t already, but for a moment, all Joey could feel was how exhausted she was.

“It was bone – femur – and there are lots of them here. Smaller, but they’d probably still work.”

“You’re not thinking of going after Renée. There’s no cure for that.”

“I know.” The same expression came over his face that he’d had when they found Bobbi. “What about Kirsty? She’s probably gone. If they come back, someday … we could use these.”

 _The Cenobites won’t stop – the nightmare might never be over. Joey’s tears threatened. Kirsty just wanted to be left alone – I dragged her back into the black past that had already destroyed both of our lives. Now she’s trapped, wandering the Labyrinth killing Cenobites._ It made no sense, and thinking about it only made her feel lost. “She’s the one tilting at windmills, now.”

“What?”

“Something she said once.”

Joey studied his shirtless torso and torn jeans. He was covered with unprofessional bandages and in a lot of pain, but none of the wounds would kill him. The need for first aid had given her a brief distraction from the truth.

 _Kirsty could have walked away. She didn’t. No matter what she did to Trevor or why … she defied the Cenobite. She went back in there and killed them to save us._ “Anyway, you can’t go back.” She forced her breathing to be even, swallowed hard, and met his worried gaze. “You can’t because I’m going to.”

“No.”

“You have to get Louis to a safe place.” She rose and found her purse in the wreckage, pulling out her house keys. With shaking fingers, she set them on the couch by the purse. “Use my condo. When I get her out, we’ll come straight to you.”

“I can’t let you –”

“You can barely walk; how will you stop me?” She bent to pick out one of the cooling black bones from his gruesome pile that had a sharp point.

Tom’s hand closed over her wrist. “You have to stay.”

“She went back in to save us all. I pushed her into this, Tom. I wouldn’t let it drop because I wanted revenge. All she wanted was to live. I can’t leave her in there.”

“She has a puzzle box.”

“It won’t let her out. I think she gave us the one we could close on purpose. Maybe she knew about – that one of them was coming to stop us.”

He released her wrist and sagged, gutted by finding and then losing his daughter, losing her to that.

Joey felt tears on her cheeks as she spoke softly, “Her puzzle box won’t work in there. If it did, Cenobites could come and go whenever. I tried it with ours – it didn’t do a thing.”

Going to the baby, she picked him up. He didn’t wake. “He’ll be safer in the nursery – I don’t want him in sight when the gate opens.” Taking him out of the room, she laid him down in his crib and kissed his forehead. When she could move, she left the door open a crack and walked away.

“She wasn’t in a hurry to leave,” Tom called out to her, fear and anger in his shaking voice. “Don’t throw your life away!”

Moving away from him, she used the bloody scrap of her shirt to pick up the puzzle box. They still weren’t sure who or what had been butchered and burned in front of the fireplace, but the blackened and shriveled state of Bobbi’s corpse had made her wonder.

“Don’t call any police. Just drive to my condo. When this is all over, there are things here we can’t lose track of. When it’s safe, we’ll come back and get them – for Louis.”

“How can you survive in there? We barely got away.”

“I have these.” She brandished the jagged bone knife and the box in one hand, not letting them touch. “I have what Kirsty has – my rage, my need to make it right … somehow. Not everyone in there is an enemy. Trevor Gooden probably opened that chamber door – he helped us. Elliott is in there, in some way – maybe he can help. As for Kirsty … they ran from her – the ones she didn’t kill.”

“What if you open it again and what comes through is…”

On his knees before her, wounded and bandaged arm outstretched to implore her, he broke her heart. The care and fear for her in those shining eyes, wet with tears, made her gasp. She stepped close enough to touch fingertips to his.

Joey let her tears fall. She almost crumbled. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, reaching for a calm she couldn’t feel. “She would return to Pinhead. That’s where she wants to be. It won’t be her.” Closing her eyes for a moment, she breathed again, deep and slow. “He’ll send someone connected to me – I know it.”

“Joey…”

Stepping back, she gave him a sad smile. “I have to.”

Tom bowed his head, his hands fisting on his thighs. “Be careful. I can’t do this, live with this … without you.”

“Louis is all that matters.”

“No.” He looked up at her. “You matter to me. Joey, you have to … come back to us.”

She wanted to hold him, reassure him – but if she moved, her trembling resolve and cracked courage would break.

“I will,” she whispered.

Stuffing the scrap of shirt into her pocket, she turned away from him. “Grab one of these,” she said, transferring the bone underneath her arm to hold it so that she could work the puzzle box.

As he struggled to rise, she fought not to turn, not to see him one more time. In her fingers, the puzzle box moved and transformed, almost as if it was eager. The chimes began to play. Her stomach dropped as she held the box down by her side and gripped the weapon, holding it out in front of her.

“Whatever comes through the gate…” Joey faltered when she saw it start to form in a different spot in the room. Gasping in a breath, she turned to face it. “No matter what it is or what it says – kill it.”


	23. Our Lady of Suffering

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”  
– Khalil Gibran

**************************************************************************************

Joey gritted her teeth and ran directly underneath the grasp of the Cenobite that emerged at the open gate. She had seen him before, as she had expected. It was the CD throwing former DJ of the Boiler Room.

Tom was ready with a thick shard of bone hurled into the monster’s throat from across the room. Unable to take the time to see the body fall, she had to trust that Tom and Louis would live and get out of the house safely. She couldn’t rely on courage for this mad attempt – it had drowned in the wash of her fear. Conviction was all she had left, that she owed it to Kirsty to help – to give her back her life, as she had given them theirs.

She held no illusions. The bright dream of possibilities opened up by their earlier escape might never be realized, at least not by her. The hordes of Hell would be deployed against her, and their powers were largely unknown. All she had was the horrid artifact: a knife hacked out of an unknown victim, and a Lament Configuration that could seal the gate behind her. Neither of these weapons represented much hope of survival.

The next problem loomed as she faced the first tangle of pathways. How would she find Kirsty, and if she managed to, could they fight their way out again?

 _Trevor said the strong will forces the configuration. Whatever that means, maybe it will help if I focus on finding her? We needed a way out of that jam and Trevor’s chamber doors opened. Did he do that – or is it possible that our need made it happen?_ She picked the center path and started down it. _Kirsty, I’m here. Where are you? Answer me or find me!_

*****************************************************

“She’s calling for you,” Xipe Totec intoned, appearing behind Kirsty. The remains in her hand inspired no concern, and the configuration was impotent – unable to send him away or close the Schism that had opened again.

Kirsty whirled, bringing up her weapon between them. “Damn fool,” she muttered. “I got her out.”

“It seems her hunger to meddle has not abated with time. You both have enjoyed a measured peace, but that is ended now.”

“I’ve never called what you left me with ‘peace’. Julia’s helped me kill a lot of your creatures already – but I still want you.”

He smiled, spreading his hands. “At last you admit it. Yet with regret, I must disappoint you. Joey’s desire to help you has made my designs possible again and there is much to do. When the Toymaker is mine, we will speak again of our desires.”

His power removed him instantly from her sight. Reappearing beside Face in the Chamber of the Schism, he gave the order for the hunt to begin.

“Bring me the child of Jack Merchant. Kill any who guard him. Yet beware – they have discovered a way to kill the Hunters and others of lesser stock. It is unknown if they possess the weapons of the Harrowers as well. The Vasa Iniquitatis must survive this battle and ready ourselves for the war to come.”

“What of Grillard? I felt him fall. The whispers of it have traveled far.”

“He was following my instructions. The Engineer will see to him. Kirsty must be shepherded to her destiny, not taken on the threshold, and her imagined victory makes her carelessly bold.”

The Cenobite thespian nodded and stepped through into Chaos, a pair of Hunters following in his wake.

*****************************************************

“Face me, damn you!” Kirsty’s voice ricocheted off of the stones. Holding herself still, she calmed her breathing. _Joey. Where are you. You have to close the fucking gate._

Rage burned away her fear. She set off again, hunting for anything her adversary might value that she could kill, and calling out to Joey as she went.

Kirsty had begun to alter the Labyrinth whenever it caught her in a dead-end. The walls and patterns of it changed almost eagerly, bending to her will. She didn’t take time to wonder why. If it resisted, she learned that meant another mind was pressing on it.

In those moments, her hate rose, coiling up from her soul like the palpable power the Cenobites controlled. The wall or chamber that concealed her enemies would buckle under her desire to reach them, and over and over they died.

As another corridor shifted, a painfully familiar chamber was revealed. The stained glass window in the ordinary wooden house door depicted a red rose. Behind it, the lights of thousands of candles flickered, but the façade of 55 Lodovico Street couldn’t deceive her anymore.

“Bad choice if you’re trying to slow me down,” she said to whatever sentient being had set the trap. “I already know Frank’s in there. You dangle my father’s house in front of me but I know what you are and in a minute I’ll know where. Show yourself.”

A Cenobite barely dressed in dominatrix gear came through the door, a solemn expression on her alien face. Her lower jaw was held in place by the silver interlocking teeth of zippers that might have been taken from her clothing. The long narrow spikes in her bald head were a disturbing reminder of Hell’s Prince. Her voice was dark and hard.

“You destroy those who would serve you, but the Labyrinth conforms to your will; proof enough you are fated to stand with the Order of the Gash. I can almost see the echo of Merkova in your eyes.”

The sound of the strange word confused her, and Kirsty’s hatred faltered. “What is…?” Steeling herself, she shook her head. This was no time for muddled senses. The S&M leather didn’t fool her, either. This was another warrior. “Who are you?”

“I am called Abigor by some, a member of the Vasa Iniquitatis and the Order of the Gash.”

“Yes, give me names. Aren’t they a way to control others – to harm them?”

“We of the Religion of Sorrows have many names.”

“What is his name – your priest, the Pope, whatever he is – his real name?”

“The Dark Pontiff of Pain, the Suffragor Filius – he was here before time. His names and titles are legion, though he is also called the Nameless One.”

“Bullshit riddles. You’re part of the in-crowd, aren’t you? What do you call him? The truth, Cenobite – I’m tired of playing games.”

“We call him ‘Lord’ – but his favored name means ‘our god, the flayed one’ – Xipe Totec. He is the beloved of Merkova.”

“I hope she-he-it isn’t jealous. He’s been out to make me a playmate for over fifteen years.”

“She is lost. We hope she will find rebirth in you. I can see why he believes it is possible. I have called the great Merkova sister and I call you the same. I would aid you now, if you were to accept your place.”

Possibilities beckoned but she had learned long ago not to trust Cenobites. “Prove yourself. Bring Joey to me. You can feel where she is, I know it.”

The black-ringed blue eyes narrowed a fraction. “She holds the key to the gate. I cannot allow you to close it.”

“Your choice,” Kirsty said and smiled. She raised her spear.

Abigor didn’t attempt to fight her, and when Kirsty struck, the Cenobite had disappeared. Agitated, she paced before the door. For a moment, the desire to see if the weapon would kill Frank gripped her.

_That’s probably what they want me to do, waste my time playing with my psycho uncle._

The fate of the world hung in the balance and it had to be madness to think she could stop it. She almost whispered the Cenobite’s name, but then recoiled and struggled to avoid even thinking it – in case it might summon him.

 _I can’t afford to do that – not until I’m ready._ A very human scream in the distance startled her. “Joey. Thank God. I need a distraction that won’t waste my time.”

Knowing it would be the only chance she might ever have to avenge her father, she turned away from the rose door and temptation.

_You stole my childhood, Frank – then you destroyed my life. I won’t give you a chance to take anything more from me. You’re already in Hell. They can torture you for eternity; I can only end you once. Rot, you bastard – if you can._

*****************************************************

Seric stood beside her seated lord in the Chamber of the Schism. The gate remained open. _May the will of Leviathan redeem the mortal error of this husk,_ she prayed.

“Kirsty Cotton could do us all a great harm,” Abigor reported, standing regal and calm before him, despite her news. “The Labyrinth obeys her will, even aiding her in the taking of many of our servants.”

Seric looked down at her treasured pontiff. It was difficult to know if this distressed or pleased him.

“Minor creatures, none of them are vital to our cause. Daughter,” he didn’t look up at her, but watched the Schism, “go and find your former companions. Bring the configurations to me. Should Leviathan so bless you, make a gift to me of the troublesome babe.”

Nodding, she moved out of the chamber. Behind her, she heard Abigor speak in a careful and respectful tone.

“My lord, I sense that Seric is conflicted and commits the sin of remembrance. If she confronts those who once cared for her, she may falter. The commandments –”

“Are for me to interpret, as the purpose of Leviathan is revealed to me. Seric’s devotion is to the Path of Perfection, and to me. Do you question my judgment in this?”

“Never, my lord.”

“As for the matter of sins, bring Angelique before me.”

Leaving them, Seric used the transference power to take her to Joey. At the first sight of her transformation, the manifestation of Leviathan’s blessings, this woman had choked on the scream that she now allowed to echo through the Labyrinth.

The human who had claimed to be her sire wasn’t with her now. He must have fled into Chaos with Lemarchand’s heir.

Her failure in the matter of the child was a shame she was eager to redeem. Angelique hadn’t succeeded in reclaiming him, but he should have been given to Xipe Totec, not to the human male. The Favored Son had forgiven her that lapse, but Angelique was surely being punished that very moment. Would she be a sacrifice to appease Xipe Totec’s wrath?

Seric advanced on Joey without fear of her weapon. The others brought down with the bones of the damned had been weak, unworthy.

Joey backed into the wall, tears slipping down her face. “Lenore. Oh, God…”

“Weep for your soul, not for the being you knew. I wish now to taste your sweet tears.”

She moved forward again, but stopped in surprise when the stones reordered themselves into an opening, making Joey stumble back. A familiar figure supported her, and then stepped in front of her. The expression evinced regret, but it was overshadowed by a desire for blood.

Seric felt an instant kinship with this flesh – and the longings and dreams Leviathan had shown her troubled her heart. Yet Kirsty was also the chosen, who would have what Seric did not. If Xipe Totec claimed this one, her glory would dim his sight for any other creature.

Jealousy was part of the sin of remembrance Abigor had sensed in her, but Seric felt at a loss to fight it. In moments of such confusion, she feared that the Engineer might have made her unfinished, incapable of the empty serenity of the Order of the Gash.

Anger at the thought twisted her mouth into a cruel smile. “Kirsty… You see how Leviathan has blessed me. Come – have the death you long for, the absolution you’ve sought for so long. It will be my gift to you … my blessing.”

*****************************************************

Joey balked as she stared at the monstrous half-flayed creature. Details she wished she could look away from would likely haunt her. Lenore’s perfectly shaped bald head was studded around in a line with gold hooks like a crown, their chains supporting the patterned leather clothing of the Cenobites that hung from her bare white and red shoulders.

The bodice on the flayed side was opened to expose the ribcage, where sharpened ribs, detached from the sternum, had been tipped with gold and gleamed like blades.

Lenore’s eyes were not the empty black of the others. The sapphire irises were huge, the pupils dilated, but they retained a semblance of human emotion.

Joey was pushed through the opening Kirsty had made when the other woman backed away from Lenore.

“Time to go,” Kirsty muttered to her over her shoulder.

“You made the place change – do you know how to get out?”

“I can’t leave yet but you have to. You never should have come back.”

“I had to help you!”

“You helped them. They need Louis and you let them back into the world to hunt him down.”

“Tom has the bones, he’s watching –”

“Shut up. She’s listening, able to report anything we say to her boss. Come on. I have an idea, but we need to get to that overgrown Rubik’s Cube first.”

Kirsty turned and bolted. Joey raced to keep up as the horror that had been Lenore pursued them.

The droning din of Leviathan vibrated in her chest as they ran up a circling ramp to the top of the maze. Holding her bone knife to keep Lenore back, she began to realize that the Cenobite didn’t seem threatened by it at all. Kirsty inspired something close to fear in her, mixed with a deep hatred, but how long could it last?

“This place is dangerous for you,” the Cenobite said to Kirsty. “The Favored Son wanted you brought here.”

“One rock or another barely makes a difference,” Kirsty replied with a snarl. “The whole place is a death trap.”

“The Engineer is eager to receive you. All of your nightmares await you in his chambers below. Leave this place. Give me the box and I will let you run.”

“Xipe Totec is a much better liar than you. Keep near me, Joey. It’s your puzzle box they need.”

Pain struck Joey between the shoulder blades and she cried out, clutching the box to her chest and dropping the bone knife. Stunned, she watched Kirsty turn to face her attacker. The chain pulled, and the agony dropped her to her knees.

“Speak of the devil,” Kirsty said. A mad grimace on her face merely imitated a smile. Placing her configuration under her arm, she reached down and slipped the hook out of Joey’s back.

Turning her head, she saw Kirsty toss it at Pinhead’s feet. Warm blood stuck her borrowed shirt to her back, but she kept her hands on the box that could close the gate to Hell, holding it tightly against her.

 _Did she … summon him? Why? If I solve the puzzle box, close the gate – Tom and Louis will be safe._ Tears fell again. _I don’t want to die here, but I can’t leave them at risk._ Her fingers had begun to move sluggishly over the six-sided cube when a shadow fell over her.

Joey’s mind was flooded with confusing images. The sensation of falling made her sick for a moment, and then everything was achingly clear. Like drops of water on a burning thirst, all the dreams and wishes of her innermost being washed through her soul.

Long after the shadow passed she knelt, dazed and dreaming, on the ancient stone. The box, forgotten, was held tight in her fingers. A familiar voice called to her faintly, but the words were indistinct and far away.

*****************************************************

“Kirsty…” Xipe Totec smiled, savoring the syllables of her name.

“Joey, damn it, close the gate!”

“The revelations of the Black Diamond do not seduce you as they once did. Your understanding of the truth given must be almost complete. Alas, your companion may dream for hours – a pity.”

“Keep your bloody distance, you bastard. I whistled, you came – but I still have one last trick.”

“I do not doubt it. You have become a magnificent being, the spirit of carnage – almost the embodiment of Chaos itself. Yet I know the secrets of your soul, the hunger in your heart; I feel the reckless intent to spend your soul in the destruction of my god. These desires conflict, tearing you – but Leviathan is beyond your understanding, eternal and inviolate.”

“You should have stopped Elliott from giving me your secrets. I can hurt that thing. Maybe it’ll damage you, too.” She lifted the box she held and the spear at once.

“These objects cannot harm me, child.”

Her voice was cold and quiet. “I’m not your fucking child.” The spear was poised for a breathless moment, and then she brought it stabbing down, piercing the configuration through its center.

Xipe Totec staggered as the fearsome blow destroyed a portion of Leviathan’s flesh. A roar of outrage was torn from him as the puzzle box exploded in a flash of blue lightning.

The bone spear’s jagged tip fell with a clatter as Kirsty gripped its shorn and smoking haft.

His cry was echoed in the deafening and broken cadence of Leviathan. The pattern on the diamond’s surface writhed, seeking to reform, to find order and perfection again.

Teeth bared, he summoned chained hooks. They burst out of the stone at Kirsty’s feet and snagged in her body as she screamed, dropping the bone. Still, the light of triumph did not fade from her eyes.

The attack had stunned Seric, as it must have all of his servants. Reaching out, he lifted her to her feet. She turned and stared as the Engineer’s shaft rose behind the pinioned Kirsty.

“My lord,” the acolyte whispered, clutching at him. “You would bring into the Order one who wounds the Perfect Shape?”

Openhanded, he struck her. His strength hurled her body to the foot of the shaft.

The voice of she he’d waited so long to possess taunted him. “Evil turns in upon itself.”

Enraged, he faced the bleeding and defiant Kirsty. “I am son, high priest, and lover of my god. I know his purpose, and speak his will to all. I shall not abide any who oppose that will.” He stepped within inches of her shuddering flesh. “You have not forgotten the hidden things Leviathan showed you in the black light of his blessings. Your blood pounds in your aching veins only when I look upon you. You draw breath without despair only at the sound of my voice. Knowing my touch, your longing twists you into a thing that can wield power in my realm.”

She gasped as the glory of suffering leaked from her eyes. “I will fight you to my last breath…”

“Yet you insist on playing games, rejecting what your soul cries for and offering harm to my god. Kirsty… I might have lured you with pleasures and power to my side, but now I will take the soul you value so little and tear it from this husk. I will show you how the loss of portions of flesh can wound, but not destroy your body, and pain that eclipses all memory of suffering shall be yours.”

Banishing the hooks and winding chains, he caught her as his hands slipped under her jaw. Welling up from the abyss within him, the pain flowed into her, unshackled by the veil of dreams.

*****************************************************

The blessing of Leviathan fell over them again, the siren call of it pulling Seric to her feet. Flushed with delicious pain the moment she touched the woman, she tore her rival’s body from her lord’s grasp; the shocking disobedience of the act filled her with shame. Yet the god wanted this husk, and she knew her vision was true when she was given a choice as a reward.

A creation chamber of holy machines had risen to accept the prize. Hauling the woman into it, she held her there and allowed the stings of the Engineer to pierce and punch into both of their bodies. She felt more than heard the woman entreat her companion, but she did not sue for release.

Seric held her beloved lord’s dark gaze as she was taken from him, his pinioned prize cradled in her arms. She watched, afraid, as his pierced alabaster countenance rippled into a chasm of rage, opening to issue a scream that shook her faith.

Indifferent to the Cenobite entrapped with the human, the shaft began to sink down as it had before.

Servant of the Dark Pontifex, Daughter of Hell, had made her choice and it could not be undone. Longing to soothe his rage, she released her fear and gave herself over. She submitted to the blades of him who had remade her with one trembling hope – that she would be transformed again, and made pleasing to her lord … at last.

*****************************************************

The power that held Kirsty up entered her with an agony that began to crush all thought or knowledge of herself to dust as the strange world around her crumbled away.

Something sliding inside the pain hooked what was left of her mind and spoke to her of a sickening hope – a possibility unthinkable before. She saw it and recognized it for the abomination it was … but fleeing from the pain, she allowed it to swallow her.

In the midst of a shining dark light, her senses returned all at once, for a flashing heartbeat. She saw Joey rising, released by that same shadow. The remaining configuration and the bone knife were in her hands. Sounds that became her voice whispered to Joey.

_Run, destroy the box. Live…_

The single heartbeat ceased, the agony driving her past the edges of death. Xipe Totec’s frustrated scream filled the void as she was pierced and torn. She felt her soul again only as it was ripped away.

In its wake, a mind-voice unknown to her spoke comfort. A brief memory of a scorpion-tailed being melted away as she was given over by Leviathan’s shadowed light to the void of emptiness that filled her shell.

The voice, ancient and soothing, whispered to her. The embrace that held what was left eased her into the abyss.

_Ah my sister, it is as Leviathan promised. Give over to me all and I shall guide you back to yourself. Behold: the Path of Perfection is yours once more…_

*****************************************************

Beaten down under the black light, Joey was a helpless witness as Lenore had risen and torn Kirsty’s body from Pinhead’s grasp. As the revolving beam of shadow moved away, she shook her head and fought to stand.

Kirsty was pulled into the horrifying chamber and stabbed alongside the Cenobite who had stolen her. Bloodied lips moving, she had spoken. The voice had echoed around her, yet Joey wasn’t certain she had heard it aloud at all.

_Run, destroy the box. Live…_

Joey stumbled back away from them, sick and dizzy. The alien scream of Leviathan’s priest shocked her back to reality. Without thought or question, she turned and ran.

When she reached the circular ramp, the first hooked chain sank into her thigh. Crying out, Joey struck it with her blackened knife, tearing the hook out of cloth and flesh.

 _Oh God, oh God, please…_ She fell at the bottom, struggled to rise, and ran on down to the next level. _The strong will forces the configuration._ Kirsty had made it change, moving the gate near them instead of leaving them to search for it. _It’s not a question of finding the way out, it’s if I can create a way out where I am._

She skidded to a stop, striking a wall to break her momentum. The Cenobite Pinhead was coming, the horror Kirsty had called ‘Xipe Totec’, the master of all the monsters of Hell. Abruptly, she could almost feel them – hordes of them – in different parts of the Labyrinth around her. The feeling seemed to come from the puzzle box itself.

Concentrating on her will, Joey tried to do what Kirsty had done, but the stones around her would not change.

“Damn it!” Panicking, her thoughts whirled.

A memory of Kirsty’s voice surfaced, telling her about the escape with Tiffany. As Leviathan had changed shapes and the gate closed, the transformation had sent bolts of power across the Labyrinth. They came through the gate as if drawn there, destroying things in explosions of light. The women had … followed them, to find the way.

_Why didn’t I see that in Tom’s house, or while Kirsty closed the gate on us before opening it again?_

Many of the servants of the Labyrinth had been defeated, if not destroyed, back then. When Kirsty stabbed her puzzle box, Leviathan was … wounded … and sparked with lightning like that. Maybe the damage and the closing of the gate caused the electric surges?

 _The strong will … or maybe desperation and damage – can affect this place?_ Kirsty and Tiffany had been at the top of the Labyrinth when Channard was destroyed, not lost in the underworld maze. Joey looked up and startled; a blank wall had changed to stairs, going up. _Holy… That’s it – it has to be. Did I make it move?_

She shoved the blunt end of her weapon into her waistband and ran up the stairs as shaking fingers began caressing the puzzle box. It started to move the moment she reached the top. Turning to see Leviathan, she winced at the sight of Pinhead.

“Stop!” The voice of the Cenobite was urgent, commanding – but his sick god overhead was still sparking as the patterns on it twisted like black and gold snakes.

Another chain erupted from the floor beneath her, embedding its hook in her shoulder. Whirling, she ran, feeling it tear away. The puzzle box separated, spun, and solved itself in her hands.

At once, the phenomenon Kirsty had described began all around her, as if the transformation was impaired. Joey escaped down the stone path in the direction of the incendiary lights.

Fearing that her heart might burst, or the hooks would catch her and drag her back, she pushed herself past her flagging strength when the gate came into sight. The walls were moving, pulling together to heal the slash between dimensions.

Another chain buried its hook in her back as she fell through the gate. Covering her head with her arms as the lightning orbs exploded in the house, she screamed – only to hear the sound blend horrifically with the inhuman rage behind her that shook the walls of her world. The gate rumbled to a close, snapping the chain that pulled at her and covering her with a shower of dust.

Gasping and bleeding, Joey tried to reach the hook, but failed. She palmed her bone knife and struggled to her knees. She would do what Kirsty had asked of her with her last breath.

Setting the puzzle box on the scorched wooden floor of Tom’s ruined home, she held the weapon over it and closed her eyes.

“For Kirsty,” she whispered. There were no tears left. They would have to forgive her. “For Doc and Terri… Bobbi. For Elliott, and poor Renée… For all of them.” She plunged her knife into the box.

It exploded, scorching her forearms as she threw them up to protect her face. When she dared to look, nothing was left.

*****************************************************

“All unravels before me, Lord Leviathan. The Toymaker is lost, Chaos threatens still, and one who knows how to injure the Eternal Pattern has escaped thy servant. I kneel before thee, not in devotion, but supplication. Let thy judgment fall, and if thou will it, set aside thy favor.”

Xipe Totec bent his head before the silent revolving cube. A sound intruded on his prayers and his back stiffened. Who dared?

The shaft of the Engineer was revolving up, rising from his chambers below. Another failure, for the Daughter of Hell had betrayed him with human jealousy. Would she return now, twice made and melded with Kirsty, locking her soul out of reach forever in Seric’s form? He did not turn, or lift his head. Surely Leviathan would cast him down and call another to command his war. He could almost welcome it. Perhaps the intruder had come to deliver the judgment.

A noise as of stone striking against stone rang out behind him. A dark and sonorous voice, full of malevolence, spoke one of his uncounted names like a caress. Unwilling to believe, he raised his head to stare at his god as she spoke again.

“When will you learn, my precious devoted one, that our god will forgive you anything?”

He fell still as she stepped around him. The gleaming black hooves scored the timeless stones before his eyes. Long hair, as dark as her heart, clung to the supple humanoid body’s white thighs and arms, and flowed from a high widow’s peak over her head. The Mohawk fell down her back in a lustrous mane.

Her black eyes stared down into his over the smooth white equine muzzle of bone stitched to the skin of her face. The craved smile split her mouth inside it, the long tongue licking out teasingly.

A narrow short loincloth of black human hair hung on a chain thong, barely hiding the scent of her desire. She was armored in black from knee to hoof, her shoulders covered with heavy black pauldrons on a delicate jeweled gorget. The middle finger of her gloved right hand, ending in a curved serrated blade like a talon, pierced him under his chin.

“On your knees, too. So thoughtful, my beloved.”

She offered her slender fingers to help him to his feet. Xipe Totec bent his head swiftly to kiss the swelling breasts that threatened to escape the narrow strip of laced leather she’d bound them with. His golden pins scraped against her flesh.

“Do you forgive, my sweet? My failure to recover you –”

“Is at an end.” Her gloved fingers slid into his flayed chest as he met her gaze again, burrowing under the skin, the finger blade making the blood flow. “We are eternal, Xipe Totec, Prince of Hell. Even so, you should waste no time showing me I was missed.” The tongue stretched out from the bone to lap his blood as he filled her hungry flesh with searing pain.

Somewhere in the bowels of Chaos beyond their realm a configuration was solved by a soul that sought unearthly pleasures. Leviathan cracked and turned overhead as his Pontifex was pushed down to his knees. The Eternal Pattern was whole once more – as he was.

Erupting from the stone, a chain of razor-edged links pinned him on his back, cutting deep into flesh that thrummed with the pleasure of pain. His hands chose a serrated blade from the cord in his skin with care, and as she brought the angling tongue within reach, he sliced it, feeling her blood bathe his throat as her tongue entered his mouth.

Dark blessings roved over Leviathan’s chosen once more and as they coupled beneath his form, the unbroken song of the Black Diamond resumed.

*****************************************************

Kirsty woke from a memory of torment, her screams echoing in a cold chamber of stone. She fought the hands that sought to quiet her, struggled against the chest that tried to still her cries.

“It’s done, it’s over,” a soft voice whispered over her head. “Kirsty, please… Don’t fall back into madness. Be with me now.”

_Elliott._

“Yes. Kirsty, look at me.” He released her to allow it.

Shocked, her trembling fingers rose to touch his face. The brilliant blue of his eyes were as warm as his gentle smile.

Confusion filled her. “You’re alive…? You escaped – how?”

The smile faded, his face shadowed by sorrow. “No, I didn’t … and I am … not.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, drawing her into his arms again.

She fell into sobs. “Oh God… Elliott, I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, Kirsty, no – it was I who failed you. I could never control him, and I lost Lenore long before that.”

“Lenore? Renée… Where is she? Where are we?”

“She is bound to Merkova, as you are. It was her choice; she pulled you away from him and joined you in your fate. Her soul was consumed in tearing the Cenobite from the bonds of death beyond death.”

“But I’m here…”

“The Engineer chose. A mere mortal soul would not have been strong enough. Lenore was a Cenobite already, able to break Merkova’s essence free – but you are bound with her, I’m afraid.”

“How do you know –” Staring up at the grief in his eyes, she faltered. She could almost see the shadow of the Cenobite around him. “You know because you are him. Now, I am … I am her. I’m dead…” She shook her head against his chest. “Then we lost. They’re loose now, both of them.”

“They must abide by the commandments of Hell.”

“Joey!” She sat up, her hands on his shoulders. “Did she –?”

“I will show you how to reach her, in dreams – if you like. You must first be stronger, able to keep her safe from Merkova.”

“Merkova…” Her face twisted and the sobs came again.

Elliott held her, his hand stroking her hair. “Hush…”

“The torment, the punishment … I deserve it. When will they –?”

“You are simply here, with me, as Lenore was. No creature here may punish Merkova. She is … favored.”

“Elliott,” she whispered, hardly daring to hope. Could hope exist in Hell? “I can stay with you, I won’t have to leave, she won’t make me go…?”

“These two are bound, for eternity.”

Bitterness soured her hope. “Soul mates?” she asked with a sneer.

“Beyond souls.”

Kirsty studied him for a moment, finding nothing there now but kind sorrow and a glow of warmth for her in his beautiful blue eyes. She sank back onto his chest and felt his arms hold her gently. “Did I ever tell you I love you?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but as her spirit bled softly into his, she could feel his smile – and she already knew his answer.

*****************************************************

Merkova stood at the wall, stroking the flesh of the artistry of Kirsty Cotton’s hate.

“It is as exquisite as you promised,” she pronounced.

Turning to face him, she leaned against the wall, allowing the drops of blood to adorn her mane like rubies. She held a roll of thin leather in her left hand, tapping it against her thigh.

Xipe Totec stood silent before her. Merkova’s spirit had consumed the form and essence of the Daughter of Hell utterly, though the shade of Kirsty was an echo in her eyes.

“The artist is restless,” she answered his thought. “It is – distracting.”

“These shadows within are part of the design of Leviathan, showing us the way to defeat Chaos.”

“Hell writhes with anticipation for the coming war. You’ve turned anarchy into order again.”

“The matter of Lemarchand’s heir remains. The gate of his grandfather’s vision waits, impotent.”

“The Toymaker is a child – weak and undefended.” She lifted her fingers to pet the corpses. “We know his blood, his face. In time, we will take him – perhaps to raise him here, learning our pleasures, eager to finish his ancestor’s work for our purpose.”

“His guardians bear knowledge that may endanger the god himself. If we had the means to understand the device of Lemarchand ... but I never made a proper study of the design Seric bore, seeing only her potential as lure and weapon.”

“As to that, I am remembered of a gift.” She held out the leather and began to unroll it. “The Engineer saved it for you, but events kept him from bringing it to your attention until now.”

The leather was etched with a dark pattern of ink. Panels in Leviathan’s image enclosed a twisting swirl of lines representing a spinning entrapped light. Smiling, Merkova rolled it again and when he approached, she placed it in his hand. The leather still held the scent of the one he had lost in the creation of the one he loved.

“This is the key,” Xipe Totec breathed. “The placement of a configuration Guardian at the site of the gate and desire seduced to call us there – with this, we can drive Chaos to the Path of Perfection, anointed by blood.”

Merkova’s laughter echoed as she pulled him against her. “The Pontifex is eager for war and that is good. Yet there is much to do and more to learn before this skin can be used against our enemy.”

“My angel,” he whispered. Watched by ten eyes, he succumbed to her hunger, aching to fall under her blades again.

Laying all of his power down, giving himself into her control, he allowed her to bind him against the wall with ropes of viscera and slick flesh. The bladed finger talon of her right hand stabbed into his flayed chest, her long tongue catching the blood and lapping it.

Straightening, she stared into his eyes, letting his blood drip over her hands as she pressed him against the stone and into the intoxicating perfume of flesh. Her voice purred at his ear, full of dark desire.

“We need not hasten – Leviathan is patient, my beloved … and the glory of Order is slow.”


	24. Endings and Beginnings

“I have found that along this journey I need to forgive myself for the first time I smiled, when I laughed, for continuing to live … without you.”  
– Unknown

“Love’s over-brimming mystery joins death and life. It has filled my cup of pain with joy.”  
– Rabindranath Tagore

“Loss and possession, death and life are one; there falls no shadow where there shines no sun.”  
– Hilaire Belloc

**************************************************************************************

Joey didn’t know how long she had lain in the silence of her empty home. Curled in a fetal position on her bed, she held the framed photo of Elliott to her chest. Tom and Louis had not been there when she arrived.

She had found her purse and Kirsty’s in Tom’s house and took them both with her. After leaving a hospital emergency room, she had made her way back to the condo only to find evidence of a destructive fight downstairs. Searching the place and calling Tom on the phone had left her at a dead end. Horrified and fearing the worst, she had collapsed on the bed as a numb dread crept over her.

A sound intruded downstairs, and then someone called her name. “Joey? Joey! Are you here?”

 _Tom. Oh my God..._ Pain pulled at her as she set the photo down on the bed and struggled up to her feet. “Tom!”

He rushed up the stairs and held her fiercely. “I’ve had almost every cop in the area scouring the streets and hospitals looking for you. We finally hit an ER that said they had someone come in with ‘strange injuries’, but you walked out after they patched you up.”

“I had to find you. I got here... I thought they killed you both.”

“They tried.”

“Tell me.”

“I will, but let’s get out of here.” He released her, but remained close. “Louis is at Captain Bowery’s house. We can stay there tonight, and then come and get your things out of here tomorrow.”

“Get them out?”

“Joey, they were here – the Cenobite wearing someone else’s face, and two of those hell dogs. I used bone pieces on the dogs, but that bastard nearly had me when he got zapped back. He dragged his dead dogs with him by their chains. I guess that was when you closed the box? They know where you live now. We have to clear out of here, out of my house, too.”

Her fingers rose to her lips. “Where can we go? What are we going to do?”

Tom touched her cheek, a hesitant expression on his face. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about it – but I have a home upstate. We could go there ... if you wanted.”

Joey started to smile, and then looked away and sank down on the bed again. “What about everything that happened – I mean, are we in trouble for anything? Marta... What they’ll find in the fireplace? Bobbi...”

Tom moved away to lean in the doorway. “The police have been through it all. I told them it had been a break in, that Bobbi hadn’t locked the doors. They … didn’t find anything. I don’t know what happened.”

For a moment, she thought she would cry, but the tears still refused to come. “I know.” She looked up at him. “Kirsty told me that they sometimes clean up the scene; they leave no evidence behind of the lives they’ve taken. We don’t know how they do it, or if it’s even done by anyone from the Labyrinth – she assumed it wasn’t Cenobites.”

“What, like worshippers?”

“Maybe? The Cenobites seem to have servants on this side, like the people who give a box to someone. After she used a box to close the gate the first time, she tried to burn it, but a … man … walked into the fire to retrieve it. She said he turned into some sort of flying bone demon, like a skeleton dragon, and carried it away. Those things don’t seem to be bound to the gate, or forced back through it when it’s closed.”

Tom’s hand rose to cover his eyes. His voice was tired. “They all think Bobbi took a bus and disappeared. She did it once before. We found her in Boston, drunk and out of her mind. If I don’t press it, they won’t look real hard this time.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. They both fell silent. Glancing at Elliott’s photo, she asked, “What about Kirsty? Did she take a bus too? It’s so easy for them to believe, isn’t it?”

“She’s listed as a missing person. Her luggage is here, so I couldn’t say she went home. I was told that Kirsty has … quite a record for mental health problems and she was committed to an asylum. I suppose now I know why – but it paints a picture for them that she might abandon luggage and run off somewhere. They probably won’t even send anyone to check on her house in Boston.”

“They’ll let us get away with murder? What if they find the bones in our possession? We don’t even know who that was.”

“Kirsty did. If she was a monster fighter, maybe that person deserved to be chopped up.”

“You said when they investigated that shack where the children disappeared, Jack and…” She stopped at the wince of pain on his face. Swallowing, she continued, “They tested the area and found proof of blood residue, even though it had been cleaned up. A butchered human would put a lot of blood on that wood floor – it would soak in. The bones –”

“Those hell things won’t stop, and we can’t give up the only weapons we have, especially if they can send monsters after us without a gate opening. I got as much of the bones and fragments as I could and took them with me. If I hadn’t, we would have been killed here. The investigation is already over at my house. They were convinced it was a burglary after Bobbi ran and left the house unlocked, so no one used luminol in my living room. You don’t have to worry about anything like that. The police won’t cause trouble for us.”

Joey sighed and nodded, deciding to trust in his magic mascot talents with the NYPD. “We should search Kirsty’s luggage. There’s still another box somewhere, the one we found in Boston. If she didn’t leave it there… We have to find and destroy it – and any others she might have kept. It injures their god.”

“Then we will. We could go there once we get Louis settled. I can ask my mother to visit to guard him.”

“She can keep him safe from the minions of Hell?”

Tom winked at her. “You haven’t met my mother.” He moved to the top of the stairs. “I’m staying with Captain Bowery with Louis until I get moved out of my house and put a for sale sign up in the yard. You’d be welcome, too. You shouldn’t stay here, but you don’t have to go upstate. If you’ll allow me, I’ll get you a hotel until you decide what you want to do.”

“I have decided – I want to go with you, and Louis.”

His smile was haunted as he held out his hand. She brought the photo of Elliott with her, laced her fingers in his, and let him lead her out.

~ ~ ~

The crew had gone on a break after spending the morning packing up her condo and now Tom’s house, but the moving van was almost full. There wasn’t much to pack beyond books, clothes, and personal items; the house they were moving to was a furnished and stocked summer home. After Tom had told her that he planned to donate his furniture and dishes to a homeless shelter and then repair and sell the house, she had taken a look around her condo and realized that she wanted to do the same.

Joey had called her boss at the station to try to explain her abrupt move upstate, only to discover that he wasn’t sad to see her go. With Doc long gone and Kirsty lost to the Labyrinth too, she didn’t really have anyone else in New York to say goodbye to.

_So that’s that – a fresh start all around._

Putting her phone away, she walked out of Tom’s kitchen. The memory of the housekeeper’s corpse stretched over the table by Hell’s chained hooks might never leave her, but soon, they would be able to go far away from all that had happened.

The box of precious information collected from the Channard Institute and John Merchant’s things that Bobbi had kept was in the front seat of Joey’s car with the original sketch of the Elysium Configuration wrapped in its heavy frame in the backseat. Tom had bundled the bone shards and placed them in a box in his car. The thought of them near her on the drive had been too disturbing.

They would pick up Louis from Captain William Bowery’s house on the way, and Joey would follow Tom’s car to their new home. He had offered to have one of the vehicles shipped, but she had wanted the time alone to think.

Leaning against the living room wall, Joey stared at the empty fireplace until time blurred around her. She could almost hear the heavy cleaver chopping bone and the wood beneath it in front of a roaring fire. She imagined Kirsty’s heart pounding with adrenaline, fear, and rage.

_What happened here, Kirsty? Not knowing is going haunt me. I never should have shown up on your doorstep._

The front door opened and the clamor of men in work boots intruded again. She twitched when Tom touched her shoulder.

“I thought you said you’d go with them if they wanted a snack. You shouldn’t be alone here.”

Joey dodged the issue. “How did Merchant’s atrium look?”

“The same – dusty, with broken panels – the building’s management said they still want to leave it ‘as is’ for the tourist trade, but the rest of the building is full of business tenants. If Louis ever wants to mess with it when he grows up, it should still be there. I almost punched this weird janitor, though. I’m not a guy to sneak up on these days.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Are you going to tell me about your nightmare? I woke you up three times, but you kept falling into it again.”

She sighed. “There’s nothing new to tell. My father comes out of nowhere and tries to kill me, and then he turns into that same Cenobite with the ammunition belts weaved through his chest.”

Sensing her need for a topic change, he invited, “Come on, I wanted to show you something in the study. They’re still packing up the books, but we can squeeze in.”

Tom handed her a photo album that was sitting on the desk in the study; it was empty except for two photos. The first was a 5x7 that showed Jack sitting on the couch with four-year-old Renée beside him and the infant Louis on his lap. The other was a black and white 8x10 of Kirsty, with a sad smile on her lips.

“Why did you have this?”

“Bobbi got it from one of the cops while we were investigating the children’s disappearance. After some of her stories about monsters, I guess they noticed a few similarities in Kirsty’s original reports. Maybe she was hoping to meet someone else who could understand what she’d seen ... but she never mentioned that to me. I thought you might want it – to remember her by.”

Joey nodded. She touched the cherubic face of the little girl with the flood of golden curls. Swallowing quickly, she pulled out the photo of her friend and handed him the album.

Kirsty’s beauty seemed timeless in black and white, and she looked as though she might speak at any moment. There were secrets haunting the dark eyes that looked back at her. Some of them she knew – others might be lost forever.

_You’re like Elliott now, aren’t you – tragedy, pain, and the unknown have transformed you into something otherworldly and wise._

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I will be. So your agent will handle the repairs and the sale?”

“Yes, and once we get everything packed up, we don’t have to stay for any of that.”

“At least you didn’t shoot lightning balls at my condo.”

“We survived. I think Bobbi and Kirsty would want us to start over.”

Hearing their names linked together made Joey frown. It was hard to turn off the old reporter instincts, and there were so many unanswered questions.

“You said Bobbi ran off and went to Boston once – you found her there, drunk. What if that was her attempt to find a kindred survivor? If they met back then and something happened… They never seemed to approve of each other one bit – weird for people who survived the same trenches.”

Tom reached out and touched her arm. “We may never know the answers to a lot of things.”

“It doesn’t seem right. If we don’t know the truth, it feels like … they died for nothing.”

“Bobbi was – broken … the moment the children disappeared, if not before, when her first husband was killed. She only seemed to want to live for Louis, but odds are, she was tricked into putting him at risk. She couldn’t have coped with that, or with losing him, too, and maybe … death was a mercy, for her. Kirsty, no matter what her reasons were, gave us a chance to escape – to get Louis out. She helped you get away, too. That’s what matters. I’ll always be grateful to her for that – so she didn’t die for nothing.”

Joey nodded. Yet the dreadful memory of Trevor Gooden, torn with the bodies of others and tacked to a wall like art in Hell seemed to sway in the scales alongside Kirsty’s sacrifice for the Merchant heir. Those scales often showed up in her nightmares, but they never seemed to balance.

~ ~ ~

The moving van had already pulled out and would probably reach the house before they did. Tom had called his housekeeper there to ready the place for their arrival.

Standing up inside the open box where she could see them as she drove were the pictures of Elliott and Kirsty, side by side in matching silver frames.

_Elliott found me in dreams and helped save me, and maybe the world, from Pinhead – and Kirsty gave me a way out of Hell and the will to fight the monsters. They lost their lives, but they gave me back mine._

She pulled her gaze away from them as Tom appeared at her open window. He leaned down to kiss her.

“I’m going to marry you, as soon as I can untangle the legal mess.”

“If that’s asking, I accept.”

“That’s early warning. When I ask, there’ll be a diamond involved that may blind us both.” He glanced at the photographs before kissing her again. “I think they’d approve. I’ll wait for you if I lose you at any red lights. Ready?”

“Ready.”

She watched him walk to his car. Tom Ramsay was the sort of man who didn’t make a woman wonder or worry about his intentions. He still struggled with grief, as she did, and the madness that had tried to overwhelm them both. Yet after all of that terror and uncertainly, he wouldn’t ask her to follow him without knowing where she stood.

_Grief and all that we’ve seen has taught us that life is precious. Living, finding what happiness we can – seems like the best way to honor the sacrifices of two people whose lives have been torn away by the same horror they saved us from._

The taillights in front of her flashed red and Tom drove away. Joey put her window up and followed.

There was a tiny local station she could apply at in the new town if she wanted to, but she hadn’t decided yet. She had time – time to learn how to be a wife, and a mother to a boy who would need a lot of love, guidance, and protection. Perhaps, eventually, they could have children together … more life to balance out so much death.

Making the turn to pick up Louis, feeling an unexpected joy to see him again, she abruptly felt tears fill her eyes at last. She didn’t look at Kirsty and Elliott as the tears fell. She knew they would understand.

*****************************************************

Carl Richards finished his walk-through of the house and reached for his cell phone to tell his wife he was ready to meet her. As he dialed, he noticed a fresh gouge in the wood before the fireplace – in the exact spot he had already had fixed once before. Kicking the rug back, he cursed and clicked the phone shut.

“Damn contractors,” he complained as he struggled to kneel and inspect the damage. His fingers felt the jagged cut impatiently. “Ouch! Shit!” He stuck his fingers in his mouth. _Trying to keep most of the original wood is getting to be a pain – literally._

Disgusted, he huffed to his feet, not bothering to replace the rug. He’d have to call them back in to repair the flooring again, delaying the whole deal – but his clients had waited this long to buy the house, they’d wait another few days to move in.

His blood seeped into the wood without a trace. Carl forgot the small cuts as he locked up and left, passing the sold sign over his proud smiling photo in the front yard.

Behind him, the silence of the growing dusk was broken throughout the house by the faint sound of a fierce desire, beating steady and strong under the boards.

 

**FINI.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end, alas. Drawing from all media types for this, it was a challenge meshing everything with some sort of sense achieved. I hope you enjoyed this tale. If so, please let me know, and thanks so much for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic)


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